Will knew his way around the Death Caves so well now that he didn't need the Men in White to escort him. When they came for him an hour later and opened his cell, he stretched and walked ahead of them. It was strange not living under fluorescent lights anymore, or lying in darkness rather than under anesthesia. His body was confused, not used to feeling the ache of a cell floor or lack of movement. He felt constantly ill. But at least he was no longer Dr. Wolfe's favorite guinea pig. Things were definitely different. Not necessarily better, but different nonetheless.
Hunter was sleeping, and he was grateful for that. She'd ask where they were taking him, and he'd have to lie again.
Hunter was filled with hope after seeing her father and Will was happy for her; she deserved some joy. But that changed nothing for either of them. In fact, if Will knew Dr. Wolfe - and by now he had a pretty good idea - bringing Leo back from the dead was a plan to make Hunter suffer even more than she already had.
The door of the morgue creaked open, revealing a dank room with the smell of ash lingering in the salty air. He walked straight past the cremation furnace and all of the little hatches where the bodies were stored before they were burned. It was just typical of the guards to make him see it every day, if only to remind him of how little time he had left.
Behind the morgue was a long room that the Men in White used as a dirty recreation area. Will was surprised when they first brought him there over a week ago. He assumed they would have much nicer quarters above the cells where he used to live; five-star luxury or something along those lines. Jamison said that this room - underground dungeon, more like - was allowed to get messy. Because after the humiliation of the escape and Alfie's attempt to destroy the Death Caves, the Men in White needed to feel powerful again.
Two guards ripped off his shirt and chained each of his wrists, raising his arms up on either side. He could hear other guards crawling out of the shadows around him, joking with each other and making bets as they usually did. The only light came from two trembling tubes above his head. The floor was covered in pools of murky water and the pipes were rusted to their core. It was almost as filthy as his new cell.
Hunter asked him every day what Dr. Wolfe did to torture him, and every day he lied to her. He told her that they fed him and showered him but did not operate, because the doctor had no need for Will anymore. Sixteen years in this place and he'd had his time under the microscope. He was only there to use as bait in case the doctor wanted something from Hunter. Dr. Wolfe had said so himself, and that was days ago. If Hunter knew where he was now, she'd go mad. The doctor passed him on like a broken toy for the guards to take out their testosterone and use him as a punching bag.
"How are we today Will?" asked Jamison as he wrapped dirty straps around his wrists.
Will glanced up and noticed that Jet was there again. He'd made his first appearance yesterday, but only stood in the background and observed the torture as guard after guard practiced their male instincts. It was mostly Jamison who threw the punches, perhaps as his way of dolling out revenge for what Chantal did to Steel. Apparently he didn't make it.
Jamison threw a right hook across Will's jaw. He wasn't paying attention, which didn't give him time to prepare for the pain. His gum split open and blood sprayed from his mouth. Another hit to the left side whipped his head back the other way and one of his teeth came loose. It didn't matter - it would be back in place after a few minutes.
The fact that he healed quickly often frustrated some of the guards. They liked to see blood, and when his wounds closed up so suddenly... they had to make new ones.
The perks of healing - you get to feel the pain all over again.
"I asked you a question," Jamison growled and then he hurled an uppercut into Will's chin. Will staggered back against the chains, feeling his upper and lower rows of teeth collide and throbs of sharp agony shot through his mouth. He hung weakly - it didn't take much to break him these days.
"I told you, kid," said Jamison. "He's basically as lifeless as a corpse."
"Still," said Jet as he strolled towards them. "It's fun, isn't it? You can thank me for suggesting him as your new project."
Will looked up through strips of hair and an agony-induced haze. Of course Jet thought of this. He was impressing Will more and more with his methods of cruelty.
"Well, it's not exactly a pay rise," snarled Jamison, "but it'll do."
Jet drew a knife from his sleeve and gave Will a long, measured look before slashing the blade across Will's chest, opening a deep cut along his ribs. Will groaned through his teeth. He hated knives. "You should really thank me, Will, for getting rid of Dr. Rosenthal for you. He won't be helping you and Hunter get out again."
Will could see a look of pure, demonic glee in Jet's black eyes. He no longer had the energy to be angry or even try to fight back, but he owed it to Dr. Rosenthal to be stronger than he felt. Since his hands were shackled, he decided a last resort, however petty, would be better than nothing. He gathered a mouthful of saliva and blood and spat directly into Jet's face with all the force he could muster.
"Go fuck yourself," he snarled.
Jet squeezed his eyes open, wiping strings of red from his cheeks. Chuckles started to bubble out of his mouth and he twisted the knife in his fingers so the silver flashed from the light above, taunting him.
"Oh, I am so very glad you did that. You've just freed up my afternoon for some much-needed physical therapy."
The knife dug into Will's stomach so deep, he thought he felt it come out the other side. He gasped in air and choked on blood. Jet drew out the knife slowly so he could feel the cold metal sliding against his internal organs. Once it was out and the blood poured from the wound, Jet didn't wait for it to heal before plunging the knife into the other side.
There was more stabbing and more beating and more jeering from the guards that surrounded him, but it was over for Will long before. In moments like these, he was so used to the feeling of agony that he trained himself to fall into a place in his mind that allowed him to escape reality.
It was usually with Fearne. Right then, just behind Jamison, he could see her watching the gruesome sight, wearing her dimpled smile. He thought about where she was at that moment, safe with the others on a train or a bus or in a small house on a hill, away from danger. He hoped she had moved on to a brand new life and forgotten him.
Will tried to focus on her and heard her melodic voice, singing to him a tune he'd heard before but could not remember. A Christmas song. It reminded him of Hannah his housekeeper and the way she used to sing so loudly during the holiday season. He listened to her sing and gazed into her loving eyes and didn't feel any pain. It was easier that way.