Backslide

When Max awoke, there was a searing pain in her abdomen. Finding that she was lying down, she attempted to rise. The blinding pain forced her to lie back down. Her vision was foggy and she could make out that she was in a cell of some kind. Had to rise, had to get up, mind over matter, mind over matter, she repeated to herself and managed to pull herself up into a sitting position on the side of the hard cot she had lain on.

The room swirled and so did Max's brain. A quick scan of the room told her that she wasn't getting out. The bars on three sides of her cell were made of heavy iron, a good inch in diameter and about four inches apart-just enough for Max to poke her hand through. But, she wouldn't have wanted to. For, around the room ran wires, about a foot apart, with a voltage so high Max could smell the electricity flowing through them and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Her cell contained the hard cot upon which she sat and a thing that must've been a toilet. Except it looked some child's prehistoric toilet. Max snorted under her breath, more out of anger than anything, which sent another pain through her body. She winced and waited for the pain to subside.

There was a noise to her right and stood up, unable to see around the bunk bed, the footboard in her vision. Weakly, she grasped the corner of her bed with white knuckles and was able to support herself as she peered into the next cell. Her vision clearing, she was able to see who it was.

Zack.

The fact that he was there gave her a new impetus, a new hope, like the storm clouds had broken and were now raining sunshine down upon her head. Struggling and limping, she hobbled to the bars closest to his cell. His bars were only about a foot from her wall, yet the ominous wires separated them by miles. She grasped the bars, more or less to support herself. The zinging wires were less than four inches from her knuckles now. "Zack," she whispered, her voice strangely raspy.

He made no move to communicate. He was sitting on his cot and had his head clasped in his hands. "Zack," she repeated, searching for his face under the flop of blond hair.

"Why are we here? What's happened?" Slowly he looked up, one eye completely covered by hair that was stained red. Max felt a stone drop into the bottomless pit that had become her stomach. He pushed the hair away and tucked it behind his ear. It wasn't for cosmetic reasons, more for safety so that he could see his surroundings.

"Max," he replied, his voice equally as hoarse. "You don't want to know."