Touched - Order of Odium: Book One

Daniel - 2

Daniel had been a "ward" of the Order for six months, as best he could estimate. He spent most of his time in the cell unless brought somewhere by a couple of armed guards, one with a shaved head and the other with a buzz-cut, would escort him out of his room, and have him either look at, touch, smell, or just stand in a room with a random object. He had overheard a scientist call one of the strange objects they brought him to refer to it as an "artifact", but that was all the information he knew so far.

He felt like the "canary in the coal mine" his family had told him about when he was younger. His best guess was that he was being sent to do these things with the artifacts to test what would happen, before allowing more important people to be around them. He couldn't see any other reason for what they had been doing with him. None of it made sense, but this was the best idea he could come up with. The whole thing was fucking strange.

When he had lived below, he had heard rumors about what the floating building was used for, everyone had, but he hadn't believed any of it until he was brought here. He still didn't know which rumors were true and which were false, since no one ever told him anything.

The guards walking him through the maze of corridors to whatever artifact he was going to be "working with" at that time never talked to him, other than to tell him to shut up or walk faster. At first, he was curious about what they wanted him to do, and it got him out of his room, so he went along willingly. Day after day of doing the same thing soon made him equally as aggravated as he was curious. He wanted some kind of answer as to what he was doing here, and he sure as hell could use some better living arrangements.

After some time of being used as a guinea pig, Daniel decided he had had enough, and refused to leave when he was told. The two guards were in much better shape than he was, each had probably an extra fifty pounds compared to Daniel's thin frame, and from the way they looked, that extra weight was all muscle. He knew he couldn't overpower them even if they hadn't had weapons, but he could at least make life more difficult for them, and hopefully get an answer or two out of them.

The next time the two guards came to get him, Daniel was sitting on his bed, reading "The Great Gatsby for probably the fourth time since arriving; only having that and two romance novels to choose between. The guards opened the door to his room and ordered him to stand up and go with them. Their stances were more relaxed than usual, having grown complacent at Daniel's obedience for every previous visit.

Daniel refused to move. "No. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what this shit is about."

Both guards looked at each other, rolling their eyes. The guard with the shaved head told him, "Look, you're coming with us no matter what. Now, you can either walk with us on your own, or we can force you to come with us. Pick one."

"I said I'm not leaving until you guys tell me what the hell is going on here. This place is weird as hell and my 'room'," Daniel swept an arm about his small living space, "is just pretty much a cell. I'd probably be living better if I had chosen to go to prison instead of this damn place."

The guard with the shaved head sighed audibly and spoke again, "Okay, have it your way." He pulled something from his guard uniform that resembled a baton, but more futuristic.

"Are you sure?" he asked Daniel.

"Fuck off," Daniel replied before laying back on his bed again and picking up his book.

The guard walked forward, brought the baton up, and a few minutes later Daniel woke up on the floor of a hallway. The baton was the type that had a taser on the end, and after knocking him unconscious, the guards had dragged him out of his room and locked the door.

Buzz-cut stared down at Daniel "Now, we can continue with your bullshit and you can get the cattle-prod again," the guard shook the baton in his hand. "Or you can walk on your own and save us all a little trouble. What do you say?"

Buzz-cut's condescending tone grated on Daniel's nerves, but he stood up anyway, his muscles aching and head swimming. He mumbled "Fine. Let's go."

On one other occasion, Daniel had tried to speak to the guards while they walked. They had woke him up in the middle of the night to just stand in a room with a backpack. The backpack was just a plain Jansport backpack like they had in the 1990s, a no-frills basic backpack.

"They want me to stand in the room with a fucking backpack? Are you kidding me?"

The room he was brought into was small when compared to some of the other rooms he had been brought to. It was a square room, approximately 50 feet by 50 feet, and as with every other room he had been in, had two room guards situated on a metal platform close to the door at the back of the room. Every "room guard" as Daniel referred to them, were always armed with rifles at the ready.

His usual transport guards left the room, and one of the room guards told him to stand still in front of the guard station and about fifteen feet from the backpack. The backpack sat in the same place the whole time, as did Daniel. The only difference was that Daniel began switching his weight from foot to foot, afraid to go against the "stand still" command he had been given, but needing to adjust his weight when his legs began to get tired. The two guards in the room had not moved either, or at least they were in the same position as they were when he entered. He wasn't sure if they were allowed to move or not.

After what seemed like hours, he was brought back to his room and allowed to go back to sleep. A few hours later they woke him up again, and he groggily walked out of his room with them. On the way, Daniel asked what the point of all this was, and was promptly told to shut up.

"You guys can't tell me anything? You just had me stand in front of a fucking backpack for hours." As soon as this left his mouth Daniel knew he had made a mistake.

Buzz-cut turned to Daniel and without a word hit Daniel in the stomach with the butt of his rifle. Daniel had the wind knocked out of him for quite some time, allowing him to rethink his situation in between gasping breaths.

After Daniel had recovered enough, they brought him back to the same room as before. This time he was told to touch the backpack or "artifact" as they called it. He noticed the two guards who always transported him places stayed inside the room this time.

'I guess they have to have four armed guards to keep me safe from a fucking backpack'

Sighing to himself, he walked up and touched the backpack. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed at least two of the four guards raise their rifles, aiming towards the backpack and himself.

Daniel shook his head at the absurdity of it all and reached forward to touch the backpack. As he did, the area that formed the backpack's front pocket opened up, invisible fingers unzipping the pocket. Daniel noticed too late and the backpack lunged forward and clamped down on his index finger to the middle knuckle.

"What the fuck!" Daniel yelled as he snatched his hand back, less half of an index finger.

A booming voice from behind him yelled "Move aside! Now!"

That was just fine with Daniel, he wanted to get the hell away from that thing ASAP. Fuck the finger, that backpack thing could keep it, as long as he didn't have to go near it again.

Adrenaline was pumping through Daniel, holding his left hand against his right index finger, trying to stop the blood from continuing to spill out of his severed finger. Suddenly the backpack jerked backward, holes opening up in the fabric, and Daniel heard the muffled sound of gunshots from the guards immediately after.

The two guards who had walked him to the room ushered him back into the hallway. Daniel's mind was racing, adrenaline still coursing through him.

"What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. My finger. That fucking backpack ate my finger."

~ ~ ~

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