Deadlocked 6 (20 page)

"Calm down," said my avatar.

"I will not calm down. Not now, and not ever again. I don't belong to you, and I'll never do what you ask of me."

"You're going to get yourself in trouble. I'm going to be getting on a helicopter soon to come and see you. Please stay calm until I get there. Don't do anything rash. Don’t get yourself into any more trouble."

I slammed my palm against the screen again. "Good. Bring it on, you fucking bitch. I'm never going to stop until I have my hands around your throat and you pay for killing Hero and Kim, and for what you did to Hailey. Do you hear me? Whoever you are, mother or not, I will wrap my hands around your throat and murder you. Come to see me, Mommy. I'd love to meet you."

My avatar shook her head and sighed. "She's psychotic."

"Bitch, you've got no idea."

The screen turned black just as a gas began to pump in through the vents around me. I screamed out as the room filled with vapor, "I want to meet you, Mommy! I've got a present for you. Come and get it."

The events of the past day had warped me, and there was at least one thing my mother had been right about: I was psychotic.

"Can you hear me, Mommy? I want to meet you. Come and meet me."

The gas smelled like a dessert and tasted sweet as it invaded me. I felt its effect immediately and started to lose consciousness.

"I want to meet you, Mommy."

I felt the cold tile floor against my cheek as I continued to call out to my avatar. I threatened her, with every intention of following through with my promises. It might not have been her that killed Hailey, but she would pay as if she had. She might not have been the one that killed Kim and Hero, but I'd take out my pain on her if given the chance. I wanted nothing more than to choke the life out of her. I wanted to feel the last pump of blood course through her throat as I ended her life. My desire for revenge was all encompassing.

"I'll kill you, Mom…"

Kim Laporte

"There we go," said a woman's voice.

I imagined my mother, which made my stomach churn. I think I'd been dreaming of her, but couldn't recall any of the details. Now, as I awoke, I was experiencing the emotions of my dream with no frame of reference as to why I was feeling them. The woman speaking nearby had a similar tenor to my mother, quick and definitive, and stirred the same memories of my childhood that her voice could.

I tried to say, "Mom." Nothing but air escaped when I opened my mouth.

Her voice made me feel equal amounts of love and hate. I loved my mother, but hated her ideals. We lived
on a tightrope of a relationship, constantly bickering and lashing out at one another over the future of the High Rollers, but our bond had been strong enough to hold us together. I loved her, but hated her at the same.

"Mom," I said again, this time managing to croak out a sound.

"She's waking up," said the stranger, her voice sounded less like my mother's with every word. "We need the Tetracycline first, to wash out any other infections before we can move forward." She pulled down the bottom eyelid of my right eye. I didn't look at her, and instead allowed my eye to roll up into my head, pretending to still be unconscious. She let the lid close and seemed convinced that I was still asleep.

"And how long will that take?" asked a man near me. He had a strong, deep voice, and spoke with authority, as if he expected everyone around him to bend to his will. I'd met a lot of men like that, and hated nearly all of them.

The woman was annoyed when she answered, "It could take several days, sir." She addressed him with disdain, and I appreciated her tone.

"That's not what I wanted to hear, doctor."

She was exasperated and I could hear her moving around the room. "It doesn't matter what you wanted to hear. Now does it? What matters is that we do this properly. We've been waiting a long time for this opportunity. If this is the subject that we've been looking for, then both sides of The Electorate are going to want us to get a pure sample."

"How many beds do you have here?" asked the man, forcefully changing the subject.

She stammered as she tried to recount the number. "For the patients? I think twelve, thirteen maybe. Why?"

"That's all? Don't you have a bunch of those rooms for your meat puppets?"

"This wasn't built to be a Body Factory, sir. This is a medical facility. We only have two of the Factory style rooms for the children. They're just for transfers. The rest of this facility is devoted to research."

"All of your important research." He was being dismissive. I heard his heavy boots
hit the tile floor. "You'll have to forgive me, doctor. This is my first time in your facility. It's interesting to see how the other half lives." I easily picked up the derision in his tone. He hated this place, and the people that utilized it. It felt like I was a fly on the wall during a family argument. "Why do you only have two rooms for the Dawns?"

"They don't live here. This is just a medical center." She busied herself by my head, and the clatter of metal tools startled me.

"Yeah, but up there." He whistled in appreciation. "That's quite a house. And that's just for them to recover in? Not bad. Not bad at all."

The doctor stopped and sighed. "Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?"

"I'm sure there is, dear," he mocked her. "But I like to get to know my dates first." He'd moved closer to my bedside, near where the doctor was standing.

"Okay then, fine," she'd been unsettled by the man's lecherous comment. Her tone had become fearful and timid. "I need to finish up here, and then I'll get to work on the other one."

"The girl? What do you need to do to her?"

"No," answered the doctor. "The man. The one that was working with this one."

"Oh, don't worry about him," he said. "He's not the right age, and from what we've learned the experiment on the male subject was a failure. We're looking for a girl in her mid twenties, like this one."

He set his hand on my right breast and squeezed. I wanted nothing more than to leap from the table and pull his head off, but I wasn't even confident I could move. I had to sit still and endure his groping hand.

"I don't give a shit if the nigger dies."

I heard someone else in the room clear her throat. I hadn't been aware there was a third person here. It seemed as if she
was uncomfortable with the man's choice of words.

"Sorry," said the man, though he clearly wasn't. "Didn't mean any offense. It's just, African American doesn't really seem to fit these days. Does it?" He let go of my breast as he chuckled and walked away. "You'd better hurry things up. In about six hours I plan on filling this place up with bodies for you to test."

"What?" asked the doctor near me. "That's not possible. There aren't enough of us here. We don't have…"

"We'll make do," he said. "I've got my men rounding up the rest of the Rollers. They've been instructed to leave the male corpses and anyone that looks like they're over thirty, and bring the rest here."

"I don't understand," said the doctor.

"Like I said, the subject we're looking for is in her twenties. Also, our scientist thinks there's a possibility some of the kids born after the virus was released might've developed antibodies to it. We're going to test them all, just to make sure." He walked further away and I heard him open a door. "So, hurry up with this one. We've got more coming."

Then the door closed and the two women in the room with me breathed a sigh of relief. The second one, who I hadn't realized was here before, spoke with a distinct accent that I couldn't place. "Can you believe that guy?"

"Oh, I know," said the doctor beside me. "Don't get me started."

"Can you believe he said that? Didn't he see that I'm black?"

"He saw, trust me. In fact, that's exactly why he said that." The doctor twisted my arm so that the crook was facing up. I limply allowed her to manipulate me, feigning an inability to resist, and felt my wrist turn inside of a cloth cuff. I was strapped to this table, which would make it impossible to escape.

"I haven't heard someone use that word in a long time," said the second woman. "It literally took my breath away. I wanted to walk over there and slap him right on his smug face."

"Well don't," said the doctor. Her tone was light, though her warning was strongly intended. "The last thing we need is to start any trouble. He's already killed the guards. Let's just get this over with and get back home. I don't want to get caught in the middle of this fight."

"How long before Beatrice gets here? I want to get the procedure done so I can get away from these assholes."

The doctor dabbed something wet on my arm, which caused the skin to become suddenly cool. Then she injected something in me. It took all of my concentration to keep from reacting to the sensation as I continued to act as if I were unconscious.

"Shouldn't be long," said the doctor. "What I'm worried about is how long that asshole is going to keep us here. He's cut off communication with Eastern."

"This is insane. I knew things were bad out here, but I didn't know it was like this."

"Is your girl here too?" asked the doctor.

"Yes."

"Well then, that's who you've got to think about. That's what I do. I just think about my girl, and remember that I've got to keep him happy to keep her safe. He's got all of our lives in his hands."

"How many more years do you have?" asked the second woman.

"Six years and three months," said the doctor. "Not that I'm counting down or anything." They shared a laugh, though I was still confused as to what they meant.

"I've got a lot longer to wait than that. It feels like it's taking forever."

"I know what you mean," said the doctor. "I remember my mother telling me how kids grow up so fast. Not sure I agree with her on that one." They laughed together, and again I was confused what they were laughing about.

"I keep a picture of my girl with me. Want to see her?"

I listened as the doctor walked over to the other woman. There was a rustling of cloth and paper, which I assumed was the woman pulling her picture from a pocket to show to the doctor.

"She's pretty," said the doctor.

"Thank you. Hopefully her hair stays that color."

"Don't worry, it will. You get what you pay for." The doctor walked back over to my bedside and I listened as she adjusted a machine ab
ove my head. It started beeping and she lowered the volume on it to a more comfortable setting. "Keep an eye on this one for me. I'm going to go see how the other guy's doing. I know the general doesn't care if he lives or dies, but I'm not going to just sit here and let him suffer."

"Okay," said the black woman.

I dared to open my right eye, the one on the side away from the woman that stayed with me. The room was grey, with a large view screen on the wall that displayed a picture of a dense wooded area. In the corner of the screen was a phrase that puzzled me.

"The Amazon Rain Forest has
doubled in size."

Then the lush green slowly dematerialized to white. At first I thought it was turning off, but then shapes began to appear amid the wash of bright light. It was a picture of ice and snow, taken from high above. In the center, atop a glacier, stood a white bear and her cub. Black words scrawled across the bottom.

"Glaciers have returned to pre-19th century levels."

I closed my eye when I heard the woman walking around behind me. I wasn't sure what I was trying to accomplish by feigning unconscious
ness, except to gather as much information as possible before making a decision how to proceed. My mother and I were very alike in that respect; each of us determined to understand as much as possible about every situation before moving forward. Interestingly, my sister didn't get that trait. She was impulsive and emotional, and would've started screaming and biting the second she woke up on this table if she were here instead of me.

The woman in the room started to whistle as she moved around. Her tune helped me keep track of her, and when I was certain that she wouldn't see, I opened my eye again.

The screen was filled with the smiling faces of young men. All of them were white, some with blonde hair and blue eyes, and others with black hair and black eyes. They were in their teens, and wearing outfits similar to the ones that Celeste and Hailey had been wearing. The words on the bottom of the screen read, "The future never looked so bright. Welcome to the Age of Reason."

Next, the screen faded to a beach scene. Blue water lapped against a sandy shore as oddly shaped trees, with large, leafy canopies and thin trunks that rose with jagged outcroppings, shaded a set of reclined seats. It was a beautiful scene, and utterly alien to me. I was only familiar with this type of landscape from Red movies and books.

My mother used to tell me stories of our lives along the southeastern coast of the United States, but my memories of that time were scant - and almost entirely negative. My life had been spent landlocked, never gazing upon a single body of water that I couldn't see the other side of. Water made me nervous, and I closed my eye to avoid staring at what I assumed was meant to be a comforting scene.