Enna
Gale sits up in her cage, and I pull my muscles taught, ready to be yelled at. But she just turns her head towards me a little and whispers over the sounds drifting over from the caged victims: the man who repeatedly screams "My name is Greg Parker!" and the small child who cries and whines in a language unfamiliar to me.
"I'm sorry for what I said to you earlier. You know..." At first my exhausted brain can't salvage the old memory, but then I remember when we'd arrived here a few days ago, how she had screamed at me and told me that this whole situation was my fault. I shake my head.
"It's okay. I already forgave you." She turns her head even more, and I can't help but cringe. Her cheek is red and raw for sleeping on the cage wires, and her skin is wan and pale. Probably like mine. Gale smiles the tiniest bit before re- situating the position of her body in the cage. I would do the same, if I could feel anything below my belly button. When I awoke after passing out, I saw that the bandages hastily wrapped around my arm had staunched the blood flow from my wounds. And then I remembered seeing Matthew. That's when the tears started.
"He'll be okay," Josh mutters beside me, as if reading my mind. I squint through the darkness so I can see him. His bright eyes reflect the fluorescent lights hanging above us. "When I knew him at the Depot, he worked harder than anyone else I knew. He won't give up on us." He motions weakly to the cages surrounding us. The other prisoners from the Depot. I take a moment to swallow the growing lump in my throat before nodding.
"I know." We all sit in a contemplative silence for a while. Then the door slams open, shedding bright light onto the prisoners and casting a man's shadow onto the stone floor. I hold my breath. Matthew?
"Rise and shine." A guard's sneering voice. My lungs deflate at once. All I can hear are the Worker's footsteps, and the prisoner screaming, "My name is Greg Parker! My name is Greg Parker!"
"No it's not, you lunatic!" The guard replies. He comes into view: a tall, muscular man with small eyes and a wicked grin. "You're going mad, you hear me? Mad!" Greg Parker continues to shout his name, and, to my horror, the man stops in front of my cage. He flashes a predatory grin that makes my skin crawl, and tightens his grip on his flashgun. Just to scare me.
"Ready for testing, sweetheart?" He whispers. I hear Josh's small gasp, Gale's little moan. Horrified, I just shake my head, roping my arms protectively around my torso. I try to force a defiant expression onto my face, but it turns out looking like I tasted something bad.
"I don't have time for this," he replies flatly and, before I know what's happening, he reaches through the cage and takes my unbandaged wrist, plunging a syringe into a vein and slowly emptying its contents. I shout angrily and then slowly begin to fade into a deep blackness as my heart propels the anesthetic to my brain. Slowly, I lose control and slump over, leaning on the cage wires. The last thing I hear is the frantic, desperate shouting of the man who hopes he's not going insane.
* * *
Blinding white light pierces my retinas through closed eyelids, and I hear voices and scuffling fabric above my head. Instantly my breaths quicken. Calm down, calm down. After a moment, I squint open my eyes. Then I close them again, blinded by the brightness of the overhead lights. I start to panic. I flail my arms and legs, but they don't move an inch. They are tied to the table I lie on, metal by the feel of it. Instead of completely losing it, I force myself to pay attention to my surroundings. Quiet mutters from above my head, strange noises from my sides, the sounds of beeping machines... Then a cold, rough hand examining my bandaged forearm, observing my bruises, checking for my pulse.
"Why isn't she wake up?" The person whispers in a rough, strangely forced accent.
"Because the lights are blinding me," I spit, before I can help myself.
"Ah..." Suddenly, my eyes hurt a little less as the lights are turned down. I open them and then let out a shocked shout. Several humanoid creatures with large eyes and tall heads stare down at me curiously: Grays.
"Wh-wh-what? What's happening? Where am I?" My heart starts to race and one of the beeping machines behind me picks up speed with it. They're going to experiment on me, just like they do with everyone that comes here. I'm never going to leave this room again.
"No fear," the Grey nearest to me says, shaking its head. I glance around at the other ones, panicked, though none of them make any move to hurt me. Their four-fingered hands rest motionlessly at their sides.
"What are you going to do with me?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Be still. Don't move. You no feel anything if you stay still. We stitch you when done." I think back to my fight training at the Depot, but I realize that nothing I learned there had prepared me to face this. Not being strapped down to a table and experimented on by ghastly creatures. I only have two options now: trust that the Grays will somehow let me survive this, or attempt to fight them and risk being levitated by a flashgun. I take several deep breaths to steady myself and close my eyes. I don't want to see what they are doing to me. I don't want to know. Any day, I'll prefer ignorant bliss over terrifying anticipation. I lie still for a while, measuring my breaths, thinking about Matthew and my mother and all of the other people I care about. Ignoring the fact that I may never have anything to live for again, ignoring my growling stomach, ignoring the Grays who have complete control over my body... More time ticks by and I start to grow aggravated: why are they making me wait? Is this part of the torture?
"You can get started now..." I mutter, keeping my eyes closed.
"Almost done," one of the Grays mumbles in its almost child-like voice, deep into a task. My stomach lifts. Maybe I won't feel any pain; maybe this will be over soon, and they won't need me anymore, and I can return to the city with Matthew and Ariel and my mother and we can return to the way things used to be... And then the stitching starts. I groan into my teeth as a minuscule needle threads through the skin over my chest, my temple, my stomach, my wrist: places where I haven't been wounded in the first place.
"What are you doing?" I hiss into my grimace.
"Almost done," the Grey replies. "Micro-surgery take not time; take patience."
Okay. Whatever that means...
After another two minutes of groaning and enduring pain, the stitching ends and the light above me grows dim again. I let out a sharp, relieved breath as I hear the door open. Footsteps follow.
"You can open your eyes now, Enna. Servants, we are through with your assistance." That voice. That dreadful, unexpected voice. I open my eyelids--heavy as though small weights were hanging off of them-- to see Sam Grey, my old training instructor. Josh's father. But now, he looks nothing like he did before. His graying hair is nicely combed into place, his face clean shaven, his raggy t-shirt replaced by a pristine white lab coat. I can't decide if his image recalls anger or sadness.
"Hello," he says in an oddly smooth voice. This man is nothing like the passionate, quickly-angered one I knew from the Depot. "I'm glad you're faring well, Enna. It's astounding how far our Hidden Allies have come in the field of medical sciences, wouldn't you agree?" I stubbornly set my jaw and try to glare as intimidatingly as possible, what with me being strapped supine to an examination table. Sam sighs and closes the heavy door, guiding a rolling chair up next to me and sitting down with a great heave. Up close, he looks tired. He looks older. My stomach flutters with vicious pleasure.
"I know you probably detest my very being and think that this whole operation is shockingly obscene."
"You forgot cruel, evil and inhumane. But yeah, you've basically got it." Sam smiles a little, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Why is he acting like we're friends? Fire crackles through my brain nerves, awakening a reckless anger I forgot I possessed. I struggle for a moment against the strips of metal that bind me to the table. When they don't budge, I growl, annoyed.
"I know what you want, Enna."
"Don't act so condescending! I know you think that I'm some dumb teenager who got caught up in the middle of this mess, but you're wrong! My family is in danger! My father is dead! My brother is dead! And for what? Just so you can please these jerks who think they own the Earth? Just for power? It's sick!" I take a gulp of air. "And what I want is for you to endure all of the things I've endured. What I want is to be released from your prison. What I want is for you to be a father to your son while you still have the chance!" Once I finish ranting, I sag against the flat table, breathing hard and fast. Cool air sneaks over my skin through tiny slits in my clothes. Sam continues to gaze at me unflinchingly.
"That's good, Enna. Your anger. And your fear. You could use that, you know. You could become more powerful than you can possibly imagine." I breathe the blind rage out of my system before I reply.
"Skip the psychotic evil villain speech, will you?" Sam leans over me, veins popping out from his temple. All former signs of cordiality are hidden behind his cold gaze.
"Listen to me, Price. You think this is some kind of game? You think that with or without your compliance we won't succeed?" He spreads his fingers wide in an eerie gesture. "My dear, we've already won." I notice his gaze lingering on the stitched places of my body, mostly covered by my clothes now.
"What did they do to me?" I whisper. Then, "What do you mean 'compliance'? I already let you experiment on me!" Sam wags his finger.
"Child, that was the necessary part of our plan. But now, you have a choice. Refuse to comply with our fair demands and be eliminated, or do what we say and serve the cause." I can't help but flinch, and he notices. He smacks his lips together. "Enna, Enna. You have no idea the wealth, the admiration, the protection you and your friends will gain if you comply."
My heart pauses mid-beat before promptly racing off again.
"My friends?" I ask, feeling the words on my lips.
"Indeed. You will be together in one of our elite living spaces for a short while. Just while we take the time to test your strengths and weaknesses. Enna." He leans forward so close that his breaths ruffle the thin sheet of cloth covering me. I shiver, and it has nothing to do with the metal examination table pressed against my back. "You are the most important person on this base right now. More important than even the Master, though he is much too prideful to admit it. You will help us, won't you?" My mind races painfully and I close my eyes, thinking. If I refuse to help the Elite, I will probably be killed now. But who knows if they really have a plan of action after my death occurs? They could be bluffing. On the other hand, I go through with their tests and buy myself some time. I could withdraw my friends from torture. We could form a plan together. We could escape. The enticing thought makes my choice very easy to make. I sigh.
"I will comply. If you promise that all of my friends will be safe."
"Deal," Sam says emotionlessly, a twinkle in his eye. "You are a very smart girl, Enna. We are pleased to gain your assistance." He rises from the chair, straightening his back. Bile rises in my throat. "While you heal, I shall round up your allies. Who, may I ask, are they?" I pause for a moment, unsure. But then I steel myself.
"My mother, Alice Price. The little girl with her, Ariel. Your son, Josh." At Josh's name I glare at Sam. "Gale McAllister."
I swallow. "And Matthew Elliot."