The Trail

Chapter 13 | Fight or flight

The room was dressed in white and stainless steel. Large lamps lit the cold scene by reflecting onto the walls. In the middle of the room, there was a chair and a table on wheels beside it. Sterile instruments were placed on the silver surface. Menacingly, they gleamed in the bright light. While the rest of the house was an unsanitary matter, the room was so clean that no bacteria would survive even if they tried. Not even a single dust particle could be seen floating in the bright lights.

To the right, there was a sink with a cabinet above it. Another shape in a suit and a mask stood with their back turned. Their hands were busy with something that were not visible from where I stood. The oxygen tube found its way down the persons back like a thick, black snake in deep contrast to the white polypropylene suit. All that was heard was the synthetic sound as the two people breathed.

At the other side of the room, which almost seemed infinite due to the white lights, there was a door. A large biohazard symbol in yellow and black were taped on to it. Below it, there were a sign that began with the word 'warning' followed by a long paragraph.

"Now, if you would please take a seat", the voice, that I could not make out if it was man or woman, spoke.

As I looked at the scene in front of me, the cold, lifeless room with no scent or sound other than the eerie breaths that came from the masks, the hairs on my neck rose. I did not want to take a seat in that chair. I stood completely still, frozen on the spot. It was a moment of fight or flight, except my neural response to danger was not to move. Almost as if my body somehow thought that I was invisible, as long as I did not move. My heart raced and roared in my ears, every muscle in my body tensed up in order to prepare me for survival. Yet, there was no way out. The door behind me had been locked from the outside, and unless I wanted to enter the biohazard room, I was stuck. There was nowhere to run, and even if I tried to fight there were two of them and one of me. It hadn't worked out very well last time.

The person in front of me cleared their throat, which sounded very strange coming from behind the mask, as a hint for me to do as I was told. Hesitantly, I walked over to the chair and sat down on the cold, metallic surface. I let my fingers clasp the seat of the chair while I pulled my shoulders to my ears. The person leaned close to my head and I could see hazel brown eyes observing my wound through the glass.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, but I can ensure you that if you choose to cooperate there will be no further misunderstandings. If you will let me, I will clean the wound for you", it was as if the hazeled eyed person spoke a different language, one that seemed almost surreal.

Without waiting for an answer, hands covered by gloves began to clean away the dried blood on the side of my head. It stung terribly, and as I raised my hand in order to push away theirs, I felt dead rubber against the back of my hand.

"Don't touch me", I said and were about to get up when I felt another pair of large, lukewarm gloves take hold of my shoulders and press me down onto the chair.

"As I said, cooperation is key. You have a wound that needs tending to, and so I will see to it", hazel-eyes said with their distorted voice.

"Why?", I said and sat still, grinding my teeth because of the stinging pain. "Why bother when you're just going to kill me anyway?"

For a moment, I thought I catched a surprised look behind the glass of the mask.

"We are not going to kill you. Although, you should be aware that the outcome may be so. You have probably heard of the virus called Ethera exellria. We will simply give you an injection of it. If you prove immune, you will survive and we will use you to run further tests. If not, well... Then you still have a survival rate of five percent", the person spoke as if no weight was added to their words at all.

Slowly, I could feel my heartrate going up even further, making my chest hurt beneath its forced pounding. I thought of the conversation with the young man in the cage next to mine, about that they could be looking for a cure.

"This is madness", I said with a voice that was on the edge of breaking, "no one is resistant to the virus. If you're a scientist, you of all people should know that. There is no stopping it."

"Not that we know of", they said while they took out a small band-aid from a box and put it over my wound.

Once they were done, they took a look at the scratch on my arm before they noticed the ones on my palms.

"I'll clean that, too."

I sat in silence with my flannel pulled down to my elbows and tried to ignore the stinging pain against my flesh. It was bearable, though, as the wounds were not as bad or deep as the one on my head.

"So what if you do manage to find a cure? Then what?", I asked. "It isn't going to make a difference. The storms and the heat, it's not magically going to stop. And the probability that you will find a cure isn't very likely. Is it really worth torturing and killing the people that is left?"

There was no reply.

"Who are you people anyway? Where did you get all of your equipment? Are you part of the border patrol or something?", I kept asking questions in hope that they would at least acknowledge one.

"It isn't important", the person said when they were done with cleaning the scratches on my palms. "We will just run some tests before you can go, standard procedure", the white figure said and began to take my blood pressure.

After that, I had to go through what reminded me of a regular checkup at the doctors. They took blood samples, examined my eyes and pupils and looked down my throat. Then, they told me to take of my clothes before they weighed and measured me - all while taking detailed notes. The silent one stood by the sink, writing, while the one with the hazel eyes examined me. I felt like a lab rat being poked and pulled at, and I had started to shake due to stress and the unnaturally cold room. Goosebumps had appeared all over my skin and my light hairs stood out like the quills of a porcupine.

Eventually, I lost track of time. I felt as if I was caught in a daze, my mind clouded and exhausted by the exposure to the strong light. It came from everywhere, bounced of the walls and straight into my eyes. I figured that it was a tactic to scare and tire out your prey. Which was all that I was; prey in the rubber claws of a polypropylene menace. Slowly, voices started to find their way into my head again. For once, I welcomed them as they distracted me from the reality before me. The harsh, cold reality of a room dressed in white and stainless steel. Somewhere far away, I saw a black box being opened before me with the logo of 'Quadrex BioTech' imprinted on the surface of the lid.