Ah, now we get down to the final moments of our beloved bird boys... *sheds a tear* Alas, it all goes downhill from here.
Anyways, switching topics for a brief moment: how are you guys liking the story? I mean, about forty of you are reading it, but I'm not sure why-or why not. I'd love some constructive feedback: What do you like about this story? Why don't you like about this story? Is there anything I could have done better? I suppose I should warn you that the story kicks up a notch pretty soon, I'd still like to know what you think of the first few chapters.
Now, back to our poor, doomed bird boys. :'( Unwind fans, I think you know what's in store for them, but don't spoil it for everyone else!
12
The Final Moments
"Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil." - Aristotle
After the Max hallucination, Fang and Iggy hadn't been given any other drugs, other than the ones they received when they were set free to be fed and given bathroom breaks. It was a welcome time of solace and sanity for Fang, but he couldn't help but shudder at what the Doctor said the last time—they wouldn't see him again until the big experiment, the experiment they had been brought here for in the first place. These drug experiments had just been sick jokes, a way to psyche them out and break down their mental and emotional defenses.
Fang thought about what Jeb had told them about the Isle Invidia medical complex—its main line of research was the advancement of organ transplant technology. What did that mean for him and Iggy? Would they be transplant recipients, or transplant donors? If they did end up as donors, would they put them out of their misery beforehand and store them in coolers, or would they put them on life support and harvest their organs one by one as they were needed? In the darkest parts of his mind, Fang could almost picture him and Iggy lying on sterile white bed sheets, hooked up to life support equipment and stitched up in various places where their organs should have been located beneath the skin; barely alive, but not missing enough of their organs to be dead. He darkly wondered which one of them would give out first, if that ended up being the case...
No. Fang quickly shook off the thoughts, reminding himself that he had to keep on believing that help would come. Max was going to save them, he was certain of it. Even if she found him lying on a surgical table, strapped down and ready for operating, she'd break in and liberate them just in the nick of time. He trusted her.
Finally the time came for the experiments to begin. It had been an average "day" up until that point, though it could have been either day or night. However, Fang found that he was feeling very apprehensive about what was going to happen next. He didn't know what would happen to him in surgery, since no one had actually told him, but he had the distinct feeling something bad was heading his and Iggy's way. A few minutes later, the feeling was magnified tenfold—Fang could now hear the sound of squeaky gurney wheels approaching in the hallway, accompanied by the footsteps about half a dozen medical staff as they came to collect their victim. It was time for the first procedure.
"Fang," Iggy whispered, sounding like a frightened child, "I'm scared."
"Me too," Fang muttered, trying his best to remain steadfast, "but Max will save us."
"I know, but..." Iggy trailed off, his voice filled with uncertainty.
"Iggy," Fang said firmly, "Max is coming. Never stop believing that."
"Okay," Iggy nodded, just as the Doctor came in with his assistants and nurses.
Flicking on the lights and rolling the gurney next to Iggy's bed, the Doctor started giving out orders. "Inject Target A and put him onto the gurney," he gazed down at Iggy with a strange expression that Fang could only describe as a scientific craving, "we have a tight schedule to keep and we want to get Target B to the operating theatre on time."
Fang glared at the Doctor when he looked at him with the same sick fascination as he had with Iggy. This man had absolutely no compassion; that much was plain to see. He and Iggy were nothing but precious experiments to him, specimens that were there for his experimentation and enjoyment. To him, they were there for him to taunt, to torment, to flip inside out and then sew back up just to see how their nervous systems reacted.
Fang knew that he'd rather die than live in that man's hands.
After Iggy had been subdued and carefully secured to the gurney, the Doctor and his medical entourage filed out of the room and closed the door, this time leaving the lights on. Fang looked around at the drab grey walls and sighed. If he remembered the schedule correctly, his surgery would go down an hour after Iggy's. With a sick feeling rising in his stomach, Fang had to wonder what they were going to do to Iggy in that operating theater. And what they were going to him.
"Max is coming," he muttered, trying to calm himself with those re-affirming words. At that moment Fang hated feeling so helpless; he should be the one breaking free of the facility and busting Iggy out of the operating room, taking down the Doctor and his medical minions with a flash of his wings and a few punches. But no, he was strapped to a stupid steel table while his brother was being sliced apart by scalpels, maybe only a few yards away!
You can't let them win Fang, he reminded himself of Shadow Max's words, you have to promise to keep fighting. I promised, he thought, but how can I keep fighting when they keep sabotaging my mind and body? Fang was left pondering his current predicament until the doctors came and wheeled him away for his operation.
