~Alyssa~
My heart rate rapidly increases as I approach the tall building. Never in my life have I had to learn how to fight. Sure, I was taught how to use guns and knives when I was younger, but that was many years ago. I'm probably as rusty as one could possibly be in those categories. And hand-to-hand combat? I might as well forget about trying to get on the good side of these soldiers today with the little skills I possess.
I look down at my shirt and notice the clear liquid still spilling down from my mouth, as well as some silver liquid. They were right. I've been bleeding the painful serum out all day, mainly through my mouth and nose. It's been almost twenty-four hours now, but not quite yet. I wish it was, so I can get this crap out of my veins.
The good news is, even though I'm still getting shocked, it's not as strong or frequent. I can barely feel them coming now, and I hope that this is it. Maybe they won't ever give it to me again. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure that they won't.
Finally, I'm standing in front of the tall iron gates. Before I can make a move, a guard dressed in a white bodysuit and helmet comes over and unlocks them, pushing both open and holding out a hand. I take it with caution, and the guard begins leading me along the dead, barren landscape. Then, I feel a hand wrap around my wrist tightly, almost as if I could get away if I tried. As we approach the tall doors, the guard holds up his right wrist, showing a barcode. A green light erupts from the door and scans it. A hissing noise comes from inside, and the door slowly creaks open, allowing us inside.
We walk down several hallways, all of them completely barren. The dark gray are uninviting, just like the rest of the building. I run my hand along them as we walk, then yank it away quickly when I find just how cold they are.
The guard's grip on my wrist is beginning to hurt as we keep turning down hallways. This seems endless. Finally, another corner is turned before the guard stands in front of a wall. Then, he walks through the wall, revealing a winding staircase.
I wonder how much of this place is a hologram, and how much of it is actually real.
When the guard has pulled me inside, he pushes me ahead of him, which almost makes me fall down the staircase. I manage to catch myself right before I slip, though, and I breathe a sigh of relief. If I'd been a second too late, I would've been lying at the bottom of the concrete steps with a blood-covered head and a snapped neck.
Though being trapped here isn't much better than that.
We make it to the bottom of the stairs, and the guard leans over me and pushes open a door. The room that I am pushed into is dark and cold, but I can tell that I'm surrounded by weapons. The scent of gunpowder and steel fills the air. For some reason, I get the feeling that we're not alone in here.
Maybe they're not going to train me at all. Maybe I'm just about to get shot or have my throat slit.
"Sit down," commands the guard in a gruff voice. I slowly obey, kneeling and touching the floor before shifting positions and crossing my legs. I press my palms against the floor and wait. I'm not completely sure what I'm waiting for, but I have a pretty good idea. Probably something along the lines of the cold barrel of a gun to be pressed against my head or chest, or maybe a sharp blade against my throat. I wait and wait, but neither comes.
Suddenly, a familiar voice rings throughout the room. "Thank you, Ivan. You can go now." A pair of cold hands slide over my shoulders as the soldier from yesterday pauses. "We'll take good care of her."
"Thank you, Private Massey," says Ivan before turning and taking his leave.
I slowly turn my head and look around, even though I know it won't do any good. When the hands begin to slide to the base of my neck, I quickly face the front again.
"Wise choice, dear," says Private Massey, sliding her hands back to my shoulders. I can tell by the way she says the final word that "dear" isn't true. "I didn't want to break your neck so soon."
"Why are all of the lights out?" I ask quietly, allowing my eyes to flick around.
Something hard whacks me in the gut and makes me keel over as my eyes water with pain. A clattering of metal rings through the room, and I realize that it's probably a metal bat or something of that nature. "Don't ask questions," a deep voice booms from somewhere in front of me. "Sit still, shut your mouth, and we won't have to kill you."
I obey, not moving a single muscle. Who knows how many others are in here with me? As I sit in silence and listen, I realize that I'm the only one who is breathing. The silence was already quite unsettling, but it is now even more so.
"You may speak only when formally addressed," corrects Private Massey after a moment. "If you do speak out of line, we will make sure that you know not to do it again." I hear the sound of metal clanging against metal, and I realize that my first assumption was most likely correct. It probably is a metal bat. "And if you still refuse to obey, I will have the pleasure of doing the job I had originally been assigned yesterday." She removes her hands from my neck, and the sound of a bullet sliding into the chamber of a gun echoes throughout the room. The cold steel is suddenly pushed against the side of my head as I take in another shaky breath. "Understood?"
I nod, and the bat is swung into my abdomen again. I grit my teeth to suppress a groan. "Understood." This time, the bat collides with my skull, sending a blinding pain through my head. I close my eyes as they begin to water.
"Show a little respect," the man in front of me demands.
"I fully understand, Private Massey," I manage, though my voice comes out higher than usual from pain.
"Good." I hear her footsteps heading further away from me. She walks all the way to the other side of the room before returning once again and placing something heavy in my hands. A single target lights up, a lifelike hologram with a red outline around it pops up. In the light, I can see enough of the gun that has been placed in my hands to figure out how I need to position it. I do so as quickly as I can, fumbling with it a little. Finally, I make it work and aim at the target. My finger squeezes the trigger, and then the gun kicks as the bullet shoves its way through the hologram's chest. It's a sensation that I haven't felt in years, ever since I was taken away, and I missed it a lot.
The hologram hits the ground, and the shape that is supposed to represent a face contorts for a second before fading away. Another one takes its place, and I keep shooting.
After a few more red targets, a different target shows up. It looks initially the same, except for the fact that it's pink instead. Immediately, something inside of me is triggered, and my heart begins pounding with exhilaration as I raise the gun to the target's forehead. I remember that the same thing happened when I was running away from the soldiers, killing them. Why was this only happening with this one, instead of all the others?
Before I know it, the butt of my gun is cracking against my shoulder and the butt of another gun is being slammed into my skull. The pain is overbearing, and I have to drop the gun and hold my hands to my head. My ears are ringing and my eyes are shutting as the pain keeps on intensifying. It feels like my brain is imploding.
"Did that feel good?" asks someone, and I think it's Private Massey. The voice is difficult to register, though. "Did shooting that target feel better than the others?"
Do I admit to this or not? Should I answer her question at all?
The memory of the battle flashes through my head. All of the soldiers shooting at each other, the feeling of adrenaline coursing through their veins so rapidly that it clogged the air. The way that I was almost neutral when I saw the young soldiers looking at me in the forest. The way I could hardly wait to bury my tiny knife in the eyes of the Sick soldiers.
I never meant to kill those two men.
Though I can't help but wonder if, somewhere deep down, I really did.
The butt of the gun slams into my stomach, and I writhe in pain for a moment. I stop when the barrel meets my skull again. "You will answer me," Private Massey says slowly, her voice lower than I've ever heard it, "or I will not hesitate to end your worthless life right on this floor. You have five seconds before I blow your brains out."
"Yes," I admit, swallowing hard. "It was better."
Everything falls silent for a moment as I wonder what's so different about this one target. Then I close my eyes, realizing that it's not important right now. I'm about to die. They'll kill me like they did my cousin and countless others in the raids.
As I release a shaky breath, Private Massey mutters something that I don't pick up on. Then I'm being hauled to my feet by the back of my shirt. She grips my arms tightly and yanks them behind my back.
"You got lucky this time, one eighty-seven," she hisses in my ear, pushing me up the steps again. I stumble over the the first one, but figure out the distance between each individual step quite quickly.
When we get to the top of the stairwell, I am ushered through the hallways, out the door, across the landscape, and over to a run-down, weathered shack. The wood has almost completely rotted, and if we step into it, our combined weight will break it down completely.
Private Massey seems to notice my hesitation, because she begins to push me harder, causing me to fall to the ground. As I try to push myself back up, her foot meets my ribcage and I collapse. Rain begins to fall heavily, wetting my back and the dirt. "Get up, you wuss," she says, but I can't. I shake my head, my face getting smeared in mud. She seizes my hair and yanks it, pulling me up yet again. My head is killing me already, so I glare up at her.
"Why are you doing this?"
"If you were capable of basic cooperation skills, I wouldn't have to," she says, gritting her teeth. "Now get in there or I'll treat you like you treated my fellow soldiers." She pulls a knife from her breast pocket. I begin moving once more.
A dim light bulb hangs from the ceiling of the shed, allowing me to see the long, narrow staircase. I begin stumbling down the steps quite quickly, even with my aching ribs and pounding head. The end of the stairwell doesn't lead to a door, like the other did. Instead, it just opens into a darkened room both ways. When I reach the bottom, I turn left.
The lighting is even dimmer in here, with bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling at random distances. Most of them are shot, leaving the main part of the room in the dark. There are many people hunched over in small groups, speaking quietly among themselves. More Sick soldiers stand over them with Volocks, maces, axes, and plenty of other weapons. There's one for every group, listening intently with the weapons at the ready, just waiting for one false move.
When my eyes adjust more to the darkness, I realize that all of the people on the ground are dressed almost like me, in tattered nurses' scrubs that are also stained with mud and other substances. Their skin is also covered in dirt, and I can see that the people nearest to me have scarring on their wrists from shackles, some that are nearly identical to mine.
These are the people who have been held captive with me for the last few years. It doesn't look like there's two hundred and thirty-four people in this room.
Then it hits me.
We must've been the ones to make it out of the firing range. Either that, or we were lucky enough to be grabbed by soldiers who chose not to shoot us.
Private Massey shoves me forward. The unexpected action makes me trip over my own feet and hit the ground, sending more pain through my ribs. I might as well just stay on the ground. "We've got another one," she calls, her voice echoing the room and causing everyone to turn and look at me. She looks down at me and gives me a cold grin. "One eighty-seven, welcome home."