TOBIAS
THE DAYS ARE nonexistent. Time stands still without the patterns of the sun, or the task of daily activities monitoring your schedule of sleep.
It's been a while since I've had food—at least thirty-six hours. Only one person has even come to visit me since I was thrown in this cell, a rag over my eyes and my hands bound. I managed to wriggle the cloth off my face, but it didn't help much, given the lack of light. My hands are still tied, though, and I can feel where my wrists have swollen over the rope burns.
That one person was my waiter, who unceremoniously dumped a bucket with a little bit of bread and water. I had to eat the soggy bread straight from the container.
Who are these people that make me eat like an animal, locked in a world of darkness, uninformed on the reason for my confinement?
My eyes are puffy and heavy. My sleep is interrupted every time I doze off by the freezing cold draft that comes in through the keyhole.
Not to mention the screams.
Throughout the night, from somewhere down the corridors, come the cries. Short bursts, elicited by extreme pain. I assume the whimpers that ensue are too quiet to travel the distance from their cell to mine.
Their screams, however, are not.
I don't want to think about the torture they're receiving, and that I might be succumbed to the same fate. It's at a time like this that I wonder what my friends are doing, whether they're out looking for me, or if they've just accepted that some force of evil has arisen and there's no amount of heroism that could save me.
I can sense that someone is coming, so I fall onto my back and roll over, pretending to be asleep. Sure enough, a few seconds later the door opens and light floods in. I shut my eyes against the first light I've seen in days. Heavy footsteps shuffle towards me.
"Get up, you pathetic scum," says the figure.
I don't budge. That doesn't sit well with him, so he pulls his foot back and kicks me hard in the ribs. I'm so weak that I don't know how much of it I can withstand, so sit up.
"What makes you think I have to listen to you?" I say, glaring up at him, but keeping my chin down.
"Because you are genetically pure and I am damaged, so according to the rules, I outrank you," he says slowly, like he's talking to a child. "Now get up!" Another kick in my stomach sends my sprawled across the floor.
Did he just say that I was genetically pure? Who is this guy? Obviously he isn't from the Bureau, or GD's wouldn't be above GP's. And what makes him think that I'm genetically pure? Last I checked I wasn't actually divergent. His information must have come from an alternative source, most likely from the city where no one knew about the Bureau's tests on my DNA.
So that leaves the question of who in the city is a traitor?
He starts to walk towards me again, so I scramble to my feet as best I can with my hands behind my back. I sway a little and almost collapse, the room spinning around me. I lean against the wall, but the man grabs my arm roughly, dragging me behind him and out the door.
"Why do you care," I dare to ask, "whether I'm a GD or—"
"Shut up!" he yells. His hot breath against my face raises the hairs on my neck. He yanks on my arm, and I bite my tongue, holding back the urge to scream as the coarse rope reopens the wounds on my wrist.
I desperately want to ask where we're going, but I don't in fear that he'll treat me less kindly.
And it's not like he'd answer me anyway.
After about three hallways and two flights of stairs, we stop. The blood is still trickling down my fingers from beneath the rope. He opens a door, not different in any way from all the others that line this hallway, and shoves me into it. The only thing occupying it is a plain bed about five feet off the ground. The edges of the room are shrouded in darkness, leaving the bed in a circle of light. The door slams shut behind me and I am left alone. I walk cautiously over to the bed, alert for any traps or danger, but I find nothing. I hoist myself up onto the platform and lay down. The mattress is no more than a few sheets over a metal frame, but it is still more comfortable than the floor of my cell. I try to count the number of times the fluorescent light above me flickers, but I'm so tired.
No, you must stay awake. They did not bring you here out of hospitality; they brought you here to harm you. You must be ready to fight…
But my body wins over my brain and I begin to doze off. The clicking of the locks wakens me and I sit up, feeling mildly rejuvenated. The person that enters has a rough face marked by scars, bruised knuckles and a tattoo of a skull on his left thigh.
The man from the church.
"Hello, Tobias, how are you?" he asks, with the same lilt to his voice as before.
"How do you know my name?" I ask, not caring to update the man on my weakening condition.
He sits down on the bed and I move over so my legs hang off the side, ready for a quick escape.
Although I doubt I would get very far.
"I know many zings zat you can only dream of knowing," he says, with an unsettling smile on his face.
"Who are you?"
"Pardon me, I have forgotten my manners." He clears his throat. "Vy name is Viktor Rogav," He answers, bowing his head humbly.
"What do you want with me?" I ask. I can feel the blood boiling in my veins, heating my face until I'm sure all it's normal color has returned, plus some. Whoever this Viktor Rogav is will pay for everything he's done to my friends and my home.
"Now, now, zoo not rush zings. Ve vill get to zis all in good time. But now," he says, rising, "I vood like you to meet my friend. I zink zat you vill find his face familiar."
Viktor gestures to the door and a tall boy with dark blonde hair enters.
"Matthew?" I ask, incredulous.
"Hello, Tobias."
"What are you doing here?" He is the last person I would have expected to side with fringe rebels, especially after what happened at the Bureau.
"Well you see, I didn't agree with the Bureau and their biased view of the world." He strides confidently across the room, his hands clasped behind his back.
"I thought that maybe we could evolve to forget the idea, but when you erased the memories of all the Bureau members…" He takes a break from his pacing to look at me, and his eyes darken when they meet with mine.
"I had no other choice."
At each word, a new hatred for him grows, and my fingers curl slowly into fists of rage.
He resumes his pacing. "Not only did you take away my only chance at revenge, but there are still those out there who believe that GD's are inferior to GP's. I stand against that. So here it is the genetically damaged, and those who despise the egotistical air other GP's have developed, who are superior to all those that think being pure makes them perfect." He spits the last words like they are a poison that has been sitting in his mouth for years and he can finally be free of it.
I am at a loss for words. Matthew, who stuck by us in all of our endeavors; working to gain equality and peace. Matthew, who was quiet and intelligent. Matthew, the only hope I had that not everyone outside of the city was a monster.
I guess I was wrong.
"Our interest in you, however, has nothing to do with your genetic purity."
Now I'm confused. Matthew knew of my damaged genes better than anybody else. So why is he hiding what I am?
He turns to look at Viktor, waiting for approval before continuing.
"Your purpose," says Viktor, stepping forward, "is to…fulfill anozer's agreement. Vizout you, our mission vood be incomplete. Yet he only stated zat you need be delivered alive. He failed to mention in vat condition." Viktor flashes another smile at me, his blackened teeth and crooked nose sucking the last light of mercy from his eyes. With that, he whisks himself from the room like some highly esteemed figure of royalty and I'm left alone with Matthew.
For a moment, I think I see his eyes soften as they lock with mine, and then the guard enters, and the connection breaks.
"You will be given daily doses of Vinmater, a system used to train the prisoners to obey and understand," the guard rattles off, his words as bland as the walls. "Each day the level will increase, or until full cooperation is at hand. If you refuse to cooperate, extenuating matters will ensue, including, but not limited to, beating, isolation, starvation—"
"Thank you, Kaine," interrupts Matthew, with a bored look on his face. The guard falls silent and stands motionless against the wall.
Matthew crosses the room to a darker corner, and comes back with a device that I hadn't noticed before. It is waist high and on wheels, with a number of little levers, knobs and buttons.
"This is Vinmater, a special development of Viktor's She is a highly developed machine that can deliver any sort of torture from your basic electric shock to varying levels of confusion, selective pain, and effects such as the feeling that your bones are splitting inside you."
That sounds beyond pleasant.
"It's your first night, so we'll start off with something easy."
Easy is all relative, considering the man who developed this machine is coming off as nothing short of a cold-blooded psychopath. Matthew attaches a set of wires from the machine to the bed that I'm sitting on.
"Now if you'll just lay down for me."
"And what if I don't?" I retort.
The guard steps forward and pulls his coat back, revealing a gun hooked in his belt. At least I know that if the torture becomes too much to bear, I can just let the guard shoot me.
I'm hoping that I'll be able to escape before then.
I lay down and Matthew pulls out a little black box. Inside is a needle filled with a dark liquid. My guess is it's some sort of serum that makes me more susceptible to the torture.
He injects it into my neck and at first I don't feel anything. Not until I try to move my leg, do I realize what its purpose is.
It feels like there are a thousand bricks coursing through my veins instead of my blood. They anchor me to the table and no matter how hard I try to move, my body lies still.
I cannot run.
The serum either cut off the nerves from my brain to my muscles, or relaxed my body so much that it has no interest in moving, but either way it is effective. I can feel panic rising in my chest as I comprehend the utter loss of control, something I am so used to having.
Now Matthew doesn't have to worry about me escaping from the ties; I am immobile.
"How are you feeling?" he asks absentmindedly as he fiddles with the controls on the machine.
"Fairly grounded," I answer.
He chuckles and then turns to look at me.
"How about now?"
I barely have time to grit my teeth in preparation before the first shock comes. I can feel it through the table, ripping my breath from my body and turning it into a scream that pierces the cruel air.
But all I can do is lie there.
"You know what I like about this machine?" Matthew asks.
I groan.
"It has the ability to target different parts of the body. See—" I feel a sharp stab to my lower left thigh, "—it sends a signal to certain electrons within the serum and activates a chemical reaction that allows only selected parts to deploy."
He sends a pulse directly down my spine and a gruesome cry escapes my lips.
I lose track of the time, as I'm shocked again and again. My body is practically numb now, and I don't even scream anymore. Is this what is happening to the people who's screams fill the corridors every night?
Or is their fate worse than mine?
When the ability to move returns to my limbs, I know Matthew is finished. He allows me to sit up, although there is nothing I want more than to just lie there. I can move, but the pain is almost as bad as the torture itself. It's a mental battle between not wanting to inflict agony upon myself any longer, and the desperate need to be off of that table, out of the room, and out of this hellish place.
"We are finished with tonight's training. Tell me, Tobias: do you feel like you are willing to cooperate?" He holds a clipboard in front of him.
I slowly move my eyes upward and look at him steadily, preparing to say yes, not eager for another training session. But then I remember the evil that resides in this place and my distaste for such cruelty and malevolent crimes.
I don't want to be a part of that.
If they want me for their callous scheme, they're going to have to break me.
I spit at his feet instead of answering.
Matthew draws his hand back like he is preparing to slap me, but hesitates. In that moment I think I see his eyes convey a message of sympathy and his mouth twitches a little, before he turns sharply away and marches to the door.
Is there any chance that the Matthew I know is still in there, itching to come out and reason with the monster that I witnessed tonight? If there is, it might be my only hope. If I can only get him alone, without the guard or Viktor pressuring him into playing a pawn in their dangerous chess match, I might be able to get the reasonable Matthew to resurge.
He stops just before he leaves and speaks over his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow, then," and he is gone.
Back in my cell, I welcome the cold stone floor. My aching body sinks to the ground and I close my eyes, begging for sleep to overtake me. I lie awake for a few hours, staring into the darkness, waiting for the screams to decorate the silence.
Eventually I begin to drift off into an uneasy sleep, hearing nothing but the wind far away, whistling around the gutters.
The only screams in the building tonight were my own.