Chapter 8: Menace

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No light came from any crack in the wall, so he had no idea where the door had run off to, and the room made him dizzy with the smell of alcohol. Ryan made up his mind; he stood up and tried to make his way to a wall. He went backwards and felt carefully with his heels so maybe they would hit first. The floor felt smooth and clean under his feet, like tile that someone kept extra good care of. After a while his heel hit something hard and he leaned back carefully.

He had found the wall. It felt just like the floor, smooth and clean.

Slowly, he inched along, now trying to find the corner. He figured that he would eventually find the door; it could not hide forever. Ha! I found the corner, he thought and continued to slide along the next wall. He had absolutely no idea what he would do when he found the door, but at least he would have his bearings. Maybe he could hear something from the other side.


Okay that's corner number two, only two walls to go, the door's gotta be somewhere in here. He shivered, and remembered the sick feeling from before; it had not left him just yet. The third corner came as a surprise and he dropped to his knees. His stomach contracted and he vomited. He fell against the wall, unable to hold himself up. The chain around his body clinked against the wall. After a few minuets of sweating and trembling and breathing deeply, he pushed back up the wall and continued his search for the door.

He bumped into a rise in the wall; he had found the door. Well, I've accomplished two things today. He rolled so that his ear flattened against the metal door. Nothing. He could hear nothing. The door opened and he fell out into the light, head first. White stars poked holes in his vision. He groaned and rolled onto his back. Two men stared down at him, one in his fifties and the other in his thirties.


"What's up?" He said sheepishly.


The two men squatted down on their haunches. "If we take you out of that little suit will you promise to stay calm?" The older man said.


Stryker! Ryan thought, remembering his voice. "Uh, will you tell me what's going on?"


Stryker smiled and motioned to some guards. "Get him up."


The muscle heads jerked him up from the floor and took the chain and jacket off. Ryan stretched.


"But cuff him." The younger, and much more muscular man snapped.


The men jerked Ryan's hands down and chained together. What had he done to deserve this treatment? What happened to Paul? Dobson grabbed him by his upper arm and dragged him down a long white hall. Stryker walked on his other side and the guards lingered behind them.


The building reminded him of a hospital. On either side of the hallway there were brown doors with little wooden signs that had different names or words in white letters on them.

It smelled like a hospital too.

Ryan's bare feet started hurting. He looked down to see that with every step he left a bloody footprint. What on earth? He wondered. Finally, when Ryan knew he would pass out or vomit with another step, Dobson stopped and unlocked one of the brown doors. He shoved Ryan in and told the guards to stay outside. Stryker shut the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket. The room had nothing in it at all but a small table and chair. It reminded Ryan of one of those cop movies where they were interrogating some hard criminal because above the table a single light swung back and forth, pushed by the air conditioner.

Dobson pushed Ryan to the table.


"Sit."


Ryan grit his teeth. So I'm a dog now huh? But he kept his mouth shut and sat. "Look, what-"


"Shut up mutant, we ask the questions here." Dobson shouted.


"Mutant?"


Stryker walked into the light, an evil smile spread across his face. He leaned forward and put his hands on the table. "You don't remember what happened between you and that boy after school, do you?" He asked.


Ryan's eyebrows came together and he shook his head. "What happened?"


Stryker chuckled. "Mr. Dorsey is in the hospital because of you." He stared at Ryan's confused face. "You threw lunch tables, a stop sign, and a lamp post at that boy, but not with your hands. The boy has two broken legs, a concussion, and a broken arm. The police tried to arrest but you resisted and put two of them in the hospital. They had to shoot you with a tranquilizer gun. And you don't remember any of this."


"How is that possible? I blacked out. The last thing I remember is . . . " He put his hand to his head. Everything seemed bleary until he woke up strapped to the table. "I remember Paul saying that he would keep picking on my little brother and that there was nothing I could do about it, and . . . that's when I blacked out."


"So," Stryker began stroking his chin. "What we can infer from this is that you black out when you use your power. Has this ever happened to you before?"


Ryan shook his head. He still could not believe what this man had said. It made no sense at all, but why would he be here otherwise? His mind began to work quickly. It must be triggered by intense emotion.

So when I got angry with Paul, I lost it, but why did I pass out? Can I do it when I'm conscious? Can I use this in a way that is safe or can help people? I feel really cold. Oh crap, I think I'm gonna vomit again.

Ryan coughed and leaned forward before he could ask to go to the bathroom. He threw up again. His body convulsed and he fell to his knees.


Dobson made a disgusted noise and grimaced. "Get up, you pathetic waste." He walked to the door and opened it with his key and called to the guards to get someone to come clean up his mess. Ryan spit and scooted back into his seat.

"Sorry," he mumbled.


Stryker stepped forward and put his hands on Ryan's shoulders. Their eyes locked, and any hope Ryan had of Stryker being kind to him dissipated in the cold, hard stare.

"You're a menace to society with those powers of yours, sonny, so we're gonna have to keep you here under lock and key for the rest of your life."


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The guards walked Ryan down the hall with their big hand clamped around his biceps. Ryan looked around the hallway for something to attack them with. He had to get away, find help somewhere, learn to control his power, and say goodbye to his family. Up ahead he saw a fire hose in the wall.

He concentrated hard on it.

Move, he begged with his mind. Blackness crept around the corners of his vision but he fought against it.

The hose burst out of its case with a loud crash and glass covered the ground. Before the guards could move it wrapped itself around their bodies, including their mouths, and pulled them away from their prisoner. Ryan grabbed the keys from one of their belts and bolted.


Down the fire escape he ran, his hands still cuffed together. The sirens echoed through the night. When Ryan figured out that he was in the middle of downtown Orlando he felt a little less panicked. In an alley, quite a ways away from the lab, he unlocked his handcuffs and slipped them in his pocket.

Now for home, and help, he thought.