The following few days were uneventful. Other than the door opening to slide his food across the floor toward him, Jake was left alone. His sleep was fitful and time passed achingly slow. Jake tried to keep up with some sort of routine to keep his mind occupied. If we wasn't exercising he was reciting passages from books he'd read long ago, trying to remember every detail. In his mind he practised the new language he was becoming familiar with, not wanting to speak aloud and tip off whoever was watching that he was able to understand most of what was being said. So It took him by surprise when the doors opened and another familiar figure stepped inside.
"Hey Doc," Jake greeted flatly, not bothering to rise from his lounging position on the bed. "You here to throw me to some new beastie you've been working on, or just drain the blood out of me."
The older man looked tired, Jake noted. Doctor Archer fiddled with his glasses for a moment before replying, "Bone marrow actually."
Jake grimaced, "What the hell is it with you people. How does a person grow up to be a mad fucking scientist, you fill in one of those questionnaires in school? Banker, carpenter... Doctor Frankenstein." He didn't miss the small flinch Archer gave before he clenched his hands together behind his back, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet.
"I merely carry out my duties as requested."
"Whatever you say." Jake shrugged. He knew most of the evil in the world wasn't carried out by people who were inherently cruel or selfish. Most people were just doing what needed to be done to survive. He of all people knew this better than most.
Jake stood and allowed himself to be led from his cell, down a winding set of brightly lit hallways to a familiar set of rooms. The smell of disinfectant was strong and burned the back of his throat. The J'avo took up their usual positions by the door while Archer pointed him to a steel gurney. Jake ignored the monitors and shiny instruments that surrounded him. What could be gained by fighting now? He might be able to use the scalpel to cut a few throats but he'd soon be gunned down.
As he sat on the cold plastic covered edge of the gurney Jake wondered how long this would go on for. Did they plan to keep him alive, or would they kill him eventually? A few weeks ago the thought would have set his blood pumping as his survival instincts kicked it, but recently Jake found himself lacking his usual fighting spirit.
"If you could sit back, we can administer the anaesthetic and have this over with." Archer told him, appearing at his side looking weary.
Jake hesitated before nodding and doing as instructed, the plastic covering squeaking in the silence of the room as he shifted his position. Something occurred to Jake then, as the doctor paused before gesturing for someone else to enter the room. Jake glanced at the masked figure before turning his attention back to Archer. "You not having a good time? At least you're not the one turned into a human guinea pig"
The half-smile was empty as Archer fixed the restraints on Jake's wrists and ankles, "It's my daughter's birthday today..." he began quietly, trailing off as if he'd forgotten he was even speaking to someone else in the room.
"Ah, a family man. What do they make of your career choices?"
Archer fixed Jake with a steely look, his eyes glinting angrily before clouding over with sadness. His mouth opened slightly before snapping shut as he glanced at the J'avo at the door. Jake realised he was not only prisoner here.
As a mask was placed over his face and a sickly sweet scent made his head swim Jake made sure to tuck away that particular piece of information for a later date. All this time he'd assumed if he was to make an escape, it would have to be alone. But knowing there were others who were probably just as trapped... he just might have a few allies.
The room began to spin as Jake allowed his eyes to slide closed. But not before the doors to the room swung open, revealing a flash of something that tugged at his foggy memory. More J'avo strode down the hall, but between them was the figure of a woman he recognised. The moment was fleeting, Jake wondered if it was even real or just some trick his drug-addled mind was playing on him. But he was sure for a second she looked straight at him, eyes widening as her mouth moved to call his name before being pushed from his sight.
Darkness overcame him and the image of Sherry's frightened expression was replaced by nothingness.
The urge to vomit was the first thing Jake was aware of when he woke. The second was the pain emanating from his back, which only intensified the need to throw up. Cracking open one eye he felt light pierce his brain like a hot knife. He shut them tight against the glare, his mouth dry as he tried to swallow down the rising bile. He couldn't quite remember where he was, why he was in so much pain... until blue shot across his mind.
"Sherry?" he tried to say, but his voice was nothing more than a hoarse groan.
He remembered... the room that smelled of disinfectant, Archer standing over him...
Jake wasn't sure how long he laid there, at some point he must have drifted off to sleep again as the feeling of movement and cool air on his bare chest pulled back to reality. He was being wheeled back to his cell, the J'avo pushing him roughly through the corridors so that he bounced off each corner. Jake swore loudly, earning him a warning punch with the hilt of a machete. After entering his cell he was roughly unbound and dumped none-too-gently on his bed. Jake hissed with pain, gritting his teeth as he refused to show it to the freakshows in the room.
And then he was alone once more, except this time Jake didn't feel the wave of hopelessness that had haunted him since his talk with his sociopathic captor. Instead something hot and familiar began to ignite in his gut, a feeling he knew well. Rage.
But he would need to be patient, to work on every weak link he could find. And if there was one thing he was sure of it was that he would not be leaving this hellhole alone. He would not leave Sherry behind.
Elsewhere...
Sherry paced her small room, tuning out the sound of the monitors and the sight of her own reflection in the two-way mirror. She pulled at the gown she'd been dressed in, trying not to think about the people watching her on the other side. Sometimes she would simply sit on the toilet with the curtain pulled shut just to give herself a few moments of privacy, to stop the feel of prying eyes watching her every move. She'd counted how long it took for someone to then push open the door, demanding in broken English that she pull back the curtain. Four and a half minutes had been the longest.
Her mind at that moment was too preoccupied with thoughts of what she'd seen whilst being returned to her room. She was sure it had been Jake strapped to the gurney, a mask obscuring his face. But she'd seen the deep scar that ran across his cheek in those few seconds the doors had swung open. And he'd seen her, she was certain of it.
Idly her hands traced the non-existent wounds that had already healed, although she could still feel the ghostly sting of the needles that made her skin crawl and itch. She wondered what their intentions were with Jake. Surely they'd have already taken everything they needed from his blood already? Her heart sank as she considered the ramifications of her failure. Not only was the only hope of providing the world with a vaccine gone whilst Jake was in captivity, but with his blood and hers a whole new strain of B. could be unleashed. She'd already seen the effects of their experiments first-hand. Sherry closed her eyes as the memory of the creature she'd been locked up with crept into her mind. That thing existed because of her. And because of her father. There was so much blood on her hands...
Some time later, after much pacing, she heard the familiar twist of the lock in the door and felt dread flood through her. Again, already?
A familiar man entered, averting his gaze before offering her a simple cotton dressing gown.
"Doctor Archer... how are you today?" Sherry tried to sound as welcoming as possible as she took the gown and secured it tightly at her waist.
His hair was unkempt and his beard longer than usual. Sherry was almost concerned by his ragged appearance, until she remembered he was in charge of her 'treatments'.
"Quite well, quite well. Yourself? How are you feeling after your procedure?"
The lie was obvious but they both ignored it. Archer pulled out one of the chairs tucked beneath a desk under the mirror and took a seat. Sherry hesitated before doing the same. She'd learned a long time ago that it was pointless to rebel. To seem amenable was often the smarter play.
"A little sore." Sherry told him, which was the truth. Her healing powers cured any wound, but the effort it took her body to regrow skin, muscle, tissue and bone took its toll. It was the ones inside her head that took the longest to stop. She could still feel the cut of a knife at the base of her skull...
"I'm sorry about that," Archer told her kindly, and against her better judgement Sherry believed him. She had known plenty of doctors and scientists who looked at her like a toy to be explored, speaking over her as if she couldn't hear what a "fascinating specimen" she was. But Doctor Archer had never looked at her like that. In fact the first time they laid eyes on each other she could almost have believed she saw his eyes grow wet behind those glasses of his. He would often spend extra time sitting with her after her treatments. It was how Sherry had come to learn a little about him, enough to make small talk.
"How's your daughter?" Sherry asked quietly, aware that they were probably being listened to, "Isn't it her birthday soon? It must be summer by now..."
Archer's shoulders relaxed as the hint of a smile crossed his face, "Yes, although I haven't been able to speak to her for some time. Certain privileges of mine have been... never mind."
Sherry fidgeted with the hem of her gown as Archer cleared his throat loudly, realising she needed to choose her next line of questioning very carefully. She could see the man in front of her was crumbling, but if she pushed too hard he'd break. Or worse, someone would see through her attempts to make idle chit chat.
She'd come to the conclusion that Archer would be her only source of information. Sherry believed he held some sort of softness in his heart toward her, and could only assume it was the misplaced affection of a father without his own child. Slowly, she'd gathered what information she could, but there had been little that was of any use. But as he tiredly opened the file that had been tucked beneath his arm Sherry decided she couldn't drag this out much longer. Not if Jake was still alive and nearby...
"Doctor Archer... did I see you earlier today, in the labs?"
He made a noncommittal 'hmm' sound in his throat as he ran his thumb over the text, tilted just enough to keep it hidden from Sherry's sight.
"And... Jake. I saw him too, didn't I?"
His hand stopped as he glanced at her over the top of his glasses. Sherry didn't think he was going to respond until he shot a warning glance at the mirror before shrugging.
"I also attend Mr Muller's medical procedures, yes."
Sherry felt relief and delight flood through her, although she was careful not to show it. "So he's okay?" she asked, her heart thundering in her chest.
"Mr Muller is... in peak physical condition. Medically speaking."
Sherry nodded, silently wondering if the Doctor was trying to hint at something being wrong in a non-medical sense. "Are we both undergoing the same treatments?"
The folder was closed and placed on the empty desk beside them with a strangely loud snap. Sherry realised she'd been leaning forward in her seat and immediately sat upright, a jolt of something that warned her she was pushing too hard running up her spine. She felt the atmosphere change between them as Archer regarded her closely. "That would be classified."
"Of course," Sherry nodded. "I'm just... concerned. He looked..."
"Mr Muller is already recovering in his room. Now, would you like to go over the rota for tomorrow? It's been requested we repeat some of our previous procedures."
Sherry shook her head as hope turned to fear. It was best not to know what horror awaited her, she'd long-ago decided.
"Very well, I shall see you bright and early Miss Birkin." Archer stood as he picked up the file of papers, tapping it against the desk before nodding his head in farewell. Sherry frowned. This was not how their reviews usually went...
"I hope you're able to speak to your daughter again soon, Doctor Archer." She told him softly, unsure if he'd even heard her until he fixed her with an unreadable stare before dropping his eyes to the floor. He turned to leave, mumbling as he went. Sherry remained were she sat as the door closed and locked behind him, taking deep steadying breaths as she tried to figure out why this meeting had felt so... unusual.
It was then she spotted it. A piece of folded paper beneath the desk that must have slipped free from his folder without either of them noticing.
Sherry froze. Judging by the angle of the room beneath the desk was a blind spot from the camera and the mirror. She'd have to figure out a way to retrieve it without arousing suspicion.
Tucking the chair away she began to stretch, grateful for the robe that offered her more cover than the hospital gown, even as it rode up her thighs. An idea struck her.
Sherry carefully pushed aside the bed in the middle of the room, giving her a little more space to really stretch out. She worked through a set of gentle exercises, hoping whoever was watching would grow bored with her display and not bother paying her too much attention as she eyed the paper. Eventually she lay on the ground, knowing she'd angled the bed as best she could to hide her from sight as she began to count out her push ups. She'd reached twenty when she decided to go for it. As she lifted herself from the ground one hand darted to the side, snatching the paper before tucking it clumsily beneath her stomach.
Sherry continued the count... waiting...
There was no movement from the other side of the door.
Finishing her set she allowed herself to rest for a few seconds before pushing herself onto her knees. She could feel the sharp edge of the paper against her skin as she prayed she'd moved quickly enough to not be seen tucking it into her gown.
With as much normalcy as possible Sherry carefully pulled herself to her feet, aware that the paper could slip free with any clumsy or misjudged movement, and headed toward the only source of privacy within the room. Pulling shut the curtain around the toilet Sherry sat, her fingers shaking as she reached inside her gown. What if this was nothing, just something the Doctor had dropped by mistake? Sherry could barely bring herself to hope as she opened the paper and let her eyes examine what could be the first sign she wasn't only among enemies in her prison...
Her heart thundered, the paper creasing as she gripped it tight. Memorising what was on it Sherry realised she only had a few minutes until a guard would be checking on her. She couldn't risk them finding the note. Ripping her only lifeline into small pieces she began dropping them into the toilet. Gathering her nerves she flushed before emerging back into the room and headed toward her bed. Laying down she closed her eyes and tried to calm the beating of her heart, grateful that she wasn't wired up to the monitors for a change. Having her racing heartbeat would be a dead giveaway something was going on-
Sherry almost smiled to herself as she realised the reason her liaison with Archer had seemed different was that he hadn't taken a measure of her vitals or administered the usual mass of wires and instruments on her body. For the first time in months Sherry felt something other than the crushing sense of despair and failure that had haunted her. She felt... hope.