Crossing Paths
Disclaimer: See chapter 1
Chapter Notes:
I hope everyone had a happy and safe Christmas and New Year, here is chapter 6, enjoy.
Chapter 6: Destinations
Pressure.
It pushed against his ears as if trying to gain access to his brain. The pressure was accompanied by a drone of sound. It felt like when… crap! A plane… I'm on a plane.
As if that realization wasn't enough someone was watching him he could sense it; so he kept still, his eyes shut hoping whoever it was would believe him to still be out and not feigning. He waited… waited for the as yet unidentified voyeur to either do something or go away; he could hear his watchers light breathing. Is this dick getting his jollies watching him? A matter of only moments after that thought he heard the rustle of clothing as the voyeur must have stood and straightened, his senses now telling him he or she was moving away.
He needed to think, he needed to work out the predicament he was in now; so he remained still eyes shut. Had the situation improved or was it a case of from the frying pan into the fire? With his Winchester luck it was more than likely. But thinking was hard when apart from the reality he'd lost Sam in a desolate future version of Seattle he was in the middle of his worst fear; he was inside a pressurized tin can, travelling at 500 MPH thousands of feet off the ground. Pushing his fear to a back corner of his brain he tried to remember what had happened; how he had come to be in a flying soup tin. The last memories he had were of Alec lowering his failing body to the ground outside the warehouse the small man saying- "Your… friend is quite a mystery, I love a good mystery and I'm sure the people at the Phoenix Foundation will find him as intriguing as I do. I think he will be very useful."
The Phoenix Foundation? Seriously? … like in MacGyver? This might be 2021, but don't these clowns watch any classic TV? Something told him that this Phoenix Foundation wasn't the caring, nurturing, humanitarian, philanthropist type organization that Mac worked for.
Dean needed to take stock of his situation; he knew he was lying on his side but thankfully not on the side of his busted ribs and bad shoulder; he could tell his hands and feet weren't tied or cuffed but he was still bare chested and bare foot, he could feel he still had his amulet. It felt like his shoulder had stopped bleeding the blood had dried with his sweat, sticky and prickly on his clammy, shivering skin. His lapse of consciousness which for all he knew could have been minutes or hours had given his body some time to recover a little. Slowly he cracked his eyes open only wide enough to see through the veil of his lashes; but only his right obeyed his left eye refusing to cooperate with his brains command remaining firmly closed. Dean moved his functioning eye around as far as he could without moving his head, it landed on the back of what could only be Alec's head and shoulders; he was a few feet away his back to Dean and he wasn't moving; the younger man's head was about level with Dean's waist; the kid's hands were cuffed behind his back, his ankles too were cuffed. Dean was momentarily confused as to why Alec had been cuffed and he hadn't. It took his sluggish brain time to reason what it meant; they considered Alec a bigger threat than him and after what he'd seen at the warehouse he knew why. He could see the even rise and fall of Alec's shoulder with the inhale and exhale of his breathing. At least the kid's alive… of course he's alive Dean you moron why would they cuff a dead body?
Dean lifted his eyes up beyond Alec to their surroundings. They were at the rear of the plane facing the tapering tail the metal fuselage the only thing between them and the tons of air pressure outside. Darkness pressed against the tiny windows one on either side of where they lay.
Not willing to alert anyone within earshot that he was awake he hissed in a stage whisper, "Kid… Alec… Alec." Nothing… no hint that the kid was feigning… like he had. What did they do to him?
Dean reached out his hand into the space between them towards Alec's shoulder, when from behind him a vaguely familiar voice stilled the motion. "You're back with us I see."
Dean drew his hand back away from Alec ignoring the pain in his ribs as he rolled his shoulder back a little turning his head so he could better see who had spoken.
The small man who had confronted them outside the warehouse stood holding the curtain back that sectioned off the doorway from the rest of the plane. Behind the man he could see rows of seats; if any were occupied he couldn't tell from his position on the floor.
Dean kept his breathing shallow to keep his broken ribs as still as possible, "What did you do to him?" He said, the words sounded deep and raspy; he sounded like he did when he was drunk and damned if he didn't wish he was.
The man moved away from the doorway towards him letting the curtain fall back into place behind him; Dean followed him with his eyes as the man moved around him stopping opposite him next to and above Alec's head. Dean's eyes traveled from his shiny black shoes up his body to his pasty face.
"Oh you mean 494? He's taking an enforced nap courtesy of a transgenic strength tranquilizer," The man answered with a smile, crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes as he squatted down in front of him. "We haven't been formally introduced… Dr. Alan Marshall formally of Manticore and now... The Phoenix Foundation."
"The Phoenix Foundation? Seriously? You people couldn't come up with a more original name than that?"
Marshall looked confused but ignored his comment as if it was the first time he'd heard the reference to MacGyver and the fictional Phoenix Foundation, probably is? "You're turn." He said nodding in Dean's direction.
Dean didn't reply. He wasn't gonna tell this jerk anything.
Marshall persisted, "Shy? Come on now you don't seem the shy type to me."
Dean pinned the man with a withering glare. "You wanna know who I am?"
"Of course," Marshall replied with an incline of his head in the affirmative.
"Okay. I'm... thirsty, hungry, pissed… take your pick." Dean answered sarcastically.
The mask of pleasantness slipped from Marshall's face momentarily replaced by an annoyed frown before it faded and the pleasant mask fell neatly back into place.
"No matter, I've been holding out on you because... I know who you are... Dean," Marshall said smiling again. "I wanted to see if you would be honest with me. You see we crossed paths briefly a long time ago." He added.
Dean remained silent he didn't recall ever meeting this slime ball.
"It was your age that confused me; you should be older, in your early forties but you appear to be around twenty seven, twenty eight… then I recognized this.' He reached forward taking hold of Dean's amulet resting it in his hand for a few moments before he let it fall back it hit the plane's carpeted floor next to Dean's chest with a dull thud. "So… tell me Dean Winchester…" Marshall paused waiting to see Dean's reaction to his real full name. "What's your secret to staying young?"
"I follow a… strict beauty regime," Dean said with a humorless smile.
"So you don't deny you are Dean Winchester?"
Dean didn't answer blaming his physical state on giving himself away and giving Marshall confirmation of his identity. Damn it!
"Well Dean… can I call you Dean?" Not waiting for Dean to answer he continued. "I'm not surprised you don't remember me you weren't in a fit state at the time… much like now."
"Gonna have to give me bit more."
"It was the pain medication, morphine, I believe."
"I've got no idea what the hell… you're talking about."
"Okay maybe this will help. Campbell County Hospital, Gillette, Wyoming 1998 ring any bells?"
Dean didn't reply.
"You were about nineteen; you'd been attacked by a dog your father and your younger brother bought you in."
Unbidden memories sprang to mind of a dark, desolate cemetery, bone-chilling cold, driving sleet, the black dog launching itself at Sam; pushing Sam out of the way, pain, a hospital… and a man leaning over his hospital bed.
"Who you… wha' ya' doin'?" He'd asked dazedly, the words slurred by painkillers.
"Just taking some blood for testing. Go back to sleep." The man whispered.
"I can tell by your face you remember."
Marshall's voice brought him back to now. "Yeah…" Dean smiled, nodding. "I thought you were a nurse."
"Yes indeed. I procured some of your DNA."
"By procured you mean… stole?"
"I suppose some would call that stealing."
"Only everyone!" Dean stated
Marshall ignored Dean's comment, "You were one of my first and I think the best of my DNA donors."
"I'm honored."
"You should be. You see… 494 and his twin 493 are the result."
Some of the puzzle pieces that had been floating around in a sea of hotly.
"You're a Manticore X5, you were branded with a designation barcode and yours is gone so how did you remove it?"
"Manticore?"
"Yes. Manticore, gene splicing and genetic engineering," Marshall said with pride.
"You screwed with nature."
"No, we improved on nature, manipulated it."
"Yeah you screwed with nature." Dean repeated sliding his eyes to Alec, "Why?"
"To create a new race, a race of super soldiers, transgenics," Marshall clarified.
"Transgenics?"
"We spliced human DNA with other sources of DNA; animal mostly mixed and spliced it into a DNA cocktail, for speed, strength, superior vision, accelerated healing the result… transgenics."
"Let me guess it all went sideways?"
"Yes… unfortunately. There was a fire at Manticore and it burned to the ground, the DNA database we'd acquired over many years was destroyed and the transgenics escaped."
"And you want them back?"
"Not all of them just the special X5's."
Alec!
"And Alec is one of the special X5's?"
"494? Yes he is," Marshall said gesturing behind him to Alec. "You see the X5's were the best and finest of the X series however the X5's had flaws."
"Flaws?" Dean inquired.
"Their humanity for one; they were made shall we say too human… too many emotions but that isn't the main flaw, that is something else entirely; a neurological disorder, low levels of serotonin in the brain that lead to violent seizures. Manticore used to administer tryptophan daily to increase the serotonin levels and control the seizures but the flaw was never really dealt with. This flaw was eliminated in the X6's and 7's, but the X5's are still the first choice for our purposes. We intend to take the best Manticore created and eliminate these flaws."
"You're going to use Alec as a guinea pig."
"He's going to be our prototype for the perfect weapon."
"You're going to turn him into what… a Universal Soldier or some kind of Robo-soldier a feeling-less, heartless robot?"
"A flesh and blood robot."
"Brainwashing?"
"Amongst other things."
"You're one sick individual."
"It's been said."
"Excuse me Dr. Marshall we'll be landing in fifteen minutes," A new voice interrupted from the front of the plane.
"Thank you," Marshall said his eyes still pinned on Dean's face.
"You know who I am so you know I'm not one of these transgenic's… why didn't you leave me to the colonel? Why'd you take me?" Dean asked.
"At first I believed you to be Manticore alumni and I was just going to let vivisection take you apart but that was before it registered who you really were and how old you are," Marshall paused, waiting to see Dean's reaction to this statement.
Dean tried not to show how the word vivisection had jolted him, he was horrified and it must have shown on his face.
Marshall gave a knowing smile before he continued, "But now… vivisection would be a terrible waste, you are much too valuable to be sliced and diced. I'm curious about you Dean; you see I think you're special. I knew it when I first saw you in 98. I want to find out what it is that makes you special, what makes you tick and I believe when I find out what that is you will be very useful indeed. I believe you, Dean Winchester are going to prove to be an integral component in our plans for the perfect soldier."
"What the hell does that even mean?"
"It's all in the genes Dean, more specifically your genes. There's something in your genetic makeup, in your DNA that is slowing the aging process. When we find out what that is, your DNA will be an integral part of the human component the basis of the cocktail in our breeding program for our super soldiers, slowing the aging process will add another valuable asset to their genetic makeup. I'm afraid it won't be very pleasant for you, extracting stem cells from the bone marrow and lumbar punctures are extremely painful and then there are the stems cells and DNA we can extract from your blood effectively it will drain you and it will kill you."
"You're a real son of a bitch."
Marshall smiled at Dean's comment as he stood brushing imaginary lint from his coat much the same way Burke had back in the warehouse, "Enjoy the rest of the flight Dean… It'll be your last." He said before he stood moving away from his position at Alec's head, stepping around Dean and back towards the front of the plane.
Over his shoulder Dean watched him as he pushed the curtain aside moved past it and let it fall back into place behind him.
Dean's sluggish brain was hurting and spinning. Alec's and his fates were in this psycho's hands. Alec was to be a guinea pig, an experiment and if Dean told them the truth that he was in fact only 28 and there was no freaky genetics to slowing aging, Marshall would have him dissected and if he didn't say anything they were gonna use him as a human cow, milking him of his DNA and that would kill him… either way he was screwed.
He had to hope that something or someone would save them… Sam. Sam would find him and Alec before there was nothing left of either of them to save.
-CP-
Sam let the voices of Terminal City roll over and around him his mind muting the rise and fall of the conversation; conscious that with every passing minute Dean was getting further away and further out of reach; it had been three hours since they had left Harbor Island and the warehouse. He didn't know what time it was but it had to be after midnight.
Logan had parked his old beat up car... or Betsy as he'd affectionately called it, in an alley next to what used to be a bar. Sam followed him as he exited the car and walked up to the rear entrance of the bar. Max was standing in the shadows cast by the building waiting for them; Sam couldn't see her bike anywhere nearby assuming she must have hidden it from sight.
"This is Terminal City?" Sam asked.
"No this is the way into Terminal City," Max answered, pulling open the door and starting down the dark stairs behind it.
Logan followed her down shining a flashlight down the steep steps into the darkness; Sam brought up the rear, concentrating the beam of the flashlight Logan had loaned him onto the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs Max moved to the left of the stairs flipping a switch that appeared to hang loose from overhead by its cord, a string of crudely rigged light bulbs lit the darkness. Sam blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light looking around at what was revealed and it wasn't anything like he had expected. No sewer or underground subway tunnels; but stretching away from them was cobbled streets and the ruined shells of buildings encased from above by the city streets and pavement.
Sam and Logan clicked off the flashlights as Max led the way forward navigating the streets with familiarity.
"I didn't expect this," Sam said putting his thoughts into whispered words.
"The old city," Logan replied in the same hushed tone.
"I've read about it, seen pictures, I'm surprised it's still exists," He said as he followed closely behind Logan.
"They used to run tours from the bar above back in the day, before the pulse; it's been pretty much left untouched since," Logan explained without turning around.
A few minutes later they climbed a sturdy ladder propped onto the lip of a large hole cut into the floor of the building above. Max led them through the large basement climbing up three levels of stairs and through derelict rooms of what appeared to be a chemical factory or laboratory of some sort. They emerged from the building skirted around the next one crossed the street then entered another building. As Max opened a heavy rusting steel door that loomed up out of the weak moonlight filtering through the broken windows and holes in the walls she began to talk, explaining for Sam's benefit what was on the other side. They moved along a short metal walkway and down more stairs their footsteps sounding loud on the metal steps that led into what Max had referred to as the TC command center the hub of TC where they could monitor via a series of strategically positioned cameras the walls and fences of their fortress keeping a close eye to see if anyone uninvited was trying to gain access to what the transgenics, transhumans and nomalies called home. The area was windowless, very large and deep the recesses at the outer edges shadowed by darkness
To Sam the gathered collection of transgenics had been confronting when he'd entered the large open room. They had eyed him with suspicion until Max and Logan had explained why Sam was there and the circumstances surrounding Alec and Dean's abduction that had led to a human they didn't know or trust gatecrashing their home. The room had instantly became a hive of activity as they had set to work in an attempt to locate them and bring one of their own back into the fold and Sam didn't need to be told that the TC residents obviously thought highly of Alec. He got the impression that Alec was the 2IC second only in the TC ranks to Max.
Amongst the eclectic TC group there was Dix, intelligent and quietly spoken with a bald head misshapen and lumpy, one eye magnified through a monocle strapped tight against his skull. When he'd first seen Mole he's thought Scaly had come back to life but then he'd seen the differences the most obvious was Mole was a rifle wielding, cigar smoking, hard talking lizard man, Scaly was none of those things and as far as Sam knew he hadn't been able to speak. Mole spoke his mind in a gruff, no nonsense way and paced the TC command center restlessly chomping on the end of an unlit cigar. Luke seemed to be the joker; he made jokes at his and the other transgenics expense his voice high-pitched and squeaky; Luke like Dix was also bald with pointy ears and nose. And then there was Joshua taller than his own 6'5" a gentle giant with long, lank hair hanging around his dog-like features; he had whiskers, canine teeth and claw like nails.
When they'd arrived Joshua had enveloped Max in a hug her petite form almost disappearing in his ginormous, enthusiastic embrace.
Sam looked up when he heard the dog-man's voice.
"Little fella worried about Alec?" Joshua asked.
Max looked up at her friend, "I am, even though he's a pain in the ass," Max answered trying but not able to conceal her concern for her fellow X5.
"Joshua worried about Alec too, he is my friend," Joshua smoothed his tangled hair with the flat of his hand and looked over at Sam standing a few steps away his back pressed against the side of the metal stairs. "And Sam worried about his brother, brother looks like Alec."
"Yes Joshua he is, very worried." Max answered, glancing over at Sam.
Joshua moved from his place beside Max coming to stand next to Sam he placed a large paw like hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam stiffened, still a little unsure of the dog-man.
"Dix and Logan will find Alec and Dean," He said patting Sam's shoulder.
"I hope so Joshua." Sam said, looking up into his kind, concerned face.
"Alec knows he's not supposed to do supply runs on his own especially at night and without telling anyone. What was he up to anyway?" Max asked, puzzled. "When we find him I'm so gonna kick his ass for that."
Sam answered, "He was in a doctor's office when I found him or he found me."
"A doctor's office?" Max said looking up at Sam concern now written on her face. "Was he injured?"
Sam shook his head, "No he seemed to be looking for something."
"Do you remember the doctor's name?"
Sam thought back to the brass plaque in the doctor's doorway. "Err… Martin… Richard Martin."
Max looked thoughtful for a moment, "Martin... Is he a cosmetic surgeon?"
"Yeah."
"I think he was after a laser."
It was Sam's turn to look confused, "Laser... why would he want to steal a laser?"
"We use them for temporary barcode removal, helps us blend in." Max explained.
"She means helps the X's blend in nothing can help the rest of us freaks to blend in," Luke intoned.
"Right, I can see..." Sam trailed off aware if he completed that observation with why he would offend the transgenics.
The awkward silence that followed was broken when Dix who had been pouring over the makeshift computer equipment with Logan crossed the big room to stand beside the four of them.
"We hacked into the traffic cams, the van went into the airport," he said.
"Airport," Sam said more to himself than anyone in the room. Thinking of how Dean's fear of flying would have him freaking out without him there to keep him calm.
"Yes… airport." Dix answered misunderstanding Sam's concern for confusion.
Sam lowered his head cursing out loud, "Crap." Feeling their eyes on him he looked up. "Sorry, it's just… Dean has a thing about flying." Sam said apologetically.
Max's eyebrows lifted at that statement.
"Do you know if they went to the domestic or the international terminal?" Sam asked effectively changing the subject.
"Don't know, we lost track when they entered the airport," Dix replied with a shake of his head. "Logan's on the phone to a contact at the airport now."
Sam looked over Luke's shoulder at Logan; he stood near the computer consul his cell phone pressed to his ear, mouth moving; from this distance he couldn't make out any of the words.
He pushed away from the stairs pacing away a few steps his back to the group, running his hands through his hair in anxious frustration.
"You think White's behind this?" Mole said around the chewed end of a cigar.
Max shook her head, "It doesn't feel right to be White he wants us dead. I think we have something else going on here."
"Yeah," Luke said in his squeaky voice. "White would have killed them straight off."
Logan's voice interrupted, "Hey guys check this out."
Sam turned back to face the group, trailing them as they gathered around the consul, "A contact of mine sent this; it was taken about forty five minutes after the time we think they left Harbor Island it's from an airport security camera." Logan explained.
He hit a button and the computer screen lit up; a two-engine jet sat on the darkened tarmac a set of rolling steps was at the open door, a red light flashing on top of the jet an indication the engines were running and the plane was readying for takeoff. In the forefront a dark colored car and the black van identical to the one Sam had seen on the news footage pulled up, the doors of both vehicles were flung open and a half dozen men got out all were dressed like typical bad guys in dark civilian clothing. One of the men made straight for the plane climbing the steps the others crowded around the back doors of the van, then the van's rear doors were flung open and two limp figures were dragged from the van one was barefoot and naked to the waist wearing only a pair of faded blue jeans the other wearing khaki pants and a brown jacket they were half carried half dragged across the tarmac up the stairs and into the plane the remaining men followed, the last one on board pulled the plane door closed and then the steps were pulled back and the plane almost immediately started to taxi across the tarmac.
Logan rewound the footage a little way and froze it then zoomed in on the logo on the tail of the plane. The logo was of a bird of prey an Eagle or a Hawk the bird's wings were outstretched and flames licked at its feet and talons.
"This is a symbol representing a Phoenix, the bird that rose from its own ashes. The plane is privately owned by something called the Phoenix Foundation," Logan said.
"The Phoenix Foundation?" Sam asked incredulously.
Logan looked at him, "You heard of it?"
"Only on a TV show. Where was it bound?" Sam asked.
"Salina in Kansas there's a small municipal airport there," Logan looked down at a piece of paper he held in his hand Sam could see writing scrawled across it. "I dug a bit deeper into this Phoenix Foundation; it has some kind of sanitarium come medical facility 8 miles out of Salina."
"That's got to be where they're headed, "Sam muttered as he started for the stairs.
"Sam where are you going?" Max called out to Sam's retreating figure.
"I'm going after them and I'm going to bring my brother and Alec back," Sam replied as he climbed the stairs.
"Sam wait, I'm coming with you," Max said.
Sam hesitated.
"We can take my car?" Logan offered.
Max smiled at Logan's offer to help, "No offense Logan but it's too slow," Max said with a shake of her head. Her dark eyes flicked around in thought. "We're going to need something faster."
"Any ideas?" Logan asked.
"Yeah," Max said.
"Alright what are we waiting for," Logan said.
He and Max headed towards the stairs.
"I'm coming to help find Alec and Sam's brother," Joshua said suddenly.
Max stopped one foot on the bottom step and turned to face the big transgenic, "Joshua I know you want to help, but it's better if you stay in TC."
"Max, Alec is my friend I'm coming," Joshua said firmly.
"Joshua-" Max began.
"No Max I'm coming," Joshua insisted. He straightened to his full impressive height.
Max looked up at Logan part way up the stairs, he shrugged raising an eyebrow, "Joshua's good in a fight and strong… we might need him."
"In that case you can count me in," Mole interjected, stepping forward.
Max moved away from the stairs and stood in front of the lizard man, "Mole I need you to remain here I'm putting you in charge of TC while I'm gone."
Mole shook his head, "Alec is my friend too."
"I know but please I need you here, I'm counting on you," Max implored.
Mole stared at her and for a moment it seemed he was going to reject her request, "Alright you got it Max."
"Thanks Mole. Alright we gotta blaze they've got a good jump on us and it's over a day's drive," Max said.
"Be careful," Luke said as Max, Logan and Joshua made their way up the stairs towards where Sam waited.
"Max, bring that pretty boy back in one piece," Mole shouted to their retreating backs.
-CP-
When the plane touched down some 15 minutes later Dean didn't know whether to feel relief that he was back on terra firma or apprehensive about what awaited him and Alec now they had landed. The plane taxied for a short distance then came to a stop. Men filed from behind the curtain into the rear of the plane. As they pulled him and a still limp Alec roughly to their feet, Dean managed to spit out a snarky, "Hands off the merchandise." The men practically dragged him along the narrow aisle, down the steps away from the plane and across a dark tarmac; Dean shivered in the cold night air; it wrapped around his feverish, hurting body as if looking for a way to penetrate into his marrow.
Alec was still alarmingly unresponsive; the kid was still out from whatever drug they must have used on him. Weak and hurting Dean was literally thrown into a van alongside Alec his shoulder and busted ribs impacting heavily with the hard metal floor he felt something give in his side and a sharp pain inside him that stole his breathe and shot pain through his insides sending him into darkness.
The next thing he was aware of was the beep of the van's reversing signal. From the angle it was tilted at Dean could tell the van was reversing down a ramp or decline of some sort. The angle of the van's descent leveled out and it continued to reverse for a further thirty or forty seconds before it slowed to a stop. There was the rattle and squeak of a metal roller door being lifted and then the van was in motion once again as it reversed onto the other side of the roller door; the next time it came to a stop the back doors were flung open both he and Alec were once again being manhandled upright and out of the van; when his feet hit the ground he felt concrete under his bare feet; rough hands grasped him under the arms and hauled him upright. Clamping his teeth together to hold back a pained cry Dean drew strength from somewhere lifting his head to get a look at where he was. His aching head wobbled alarmingly between his shoulders much like one of those bobble head doll's making it hard to concentrate and to take note of his surroundings. He could see Alec slightly in front of him the younger man like him had an escort flanking his limp form; the toes of his shoes scrapping along the concrete.
A figure that Dean recognized as Marshall appeared from his left side preceding the small group; the hands of the men on either side of him tightened around his biceps and he was dragged forward after Alec and Marshall. They hustled them upto a second roller door that appeared to be a part of a basement level of a large building. He saw Marshall swipe a key-card and punch a code into the keypad to the right of the door. It began to roll up; when it was open far enough for them to enter they were unceremoniously dragged through it and along a drab, dark hallway lit only by dim lights in high wall sconces. An open ended antiquated freight elevator appeared in front of him; Marshall preceded the entourage into the elevator; Dean caught a glimpse of Alec's face in the dim light the kid still wasn't showing signs of coming around.
Once they were all inside Marshall pushed a button to the left of the door. The elevator car jerked and groaned into motion descending slowly and noisily.
On the lower floor a hallway branched off to the right; it was like entering a different world completely the opposite to the floor above. The corridor was better lit and this floor had more the look and feel of a hospital, clinic or laboratory.
Propelled forward along the hallway it wide enough that both Alec him and their escorts could negotiate the hallway side by side.
Dean's head spun at the fast pace he was being hustled along. Steel windowless doors were spaced evenly along either side of the hallway flashed by at a dizzying speed.
Marshall began barking out orders and instructions to faceless people in white lab coats that appeared to either side of him seemingly out of nowhere in the wide corridor.
Coming to a sudden halt Dean blinked to bring the figure standing in front of them into focus. Tall and thin he was as skinny as some of the skeletons he and Sam had salted and burned over the years.
His dark eyes took in both he and Alec before he stepped up to Alec his bony fingers tucked under Alec's chin raising his head so he could look into Alec's slack face; and he smiled.
"X5-494 well done Dr. Marshall you could not have brought me a more suitable X5 specimen."
Even a little out of it and hardly able to hold the weight of his own head up Dean heard the heavy European accent lacing the man's words.
Marshall's reply came as the thin man's eyes slid from Alec's face to Dean's.
"I knew you'd be pleased."
"And who do we have here?" Skinny asked with obvious interest, Alec's head dropped as the man withdrew his fingers from Alec's chin and stepped closer to Dean. "Is he an X4?" he asked.
"No sir this is Dean Winchester he is one of our original donors. He is in fact 494's donor."
"You must be mistaken?"
"No sir there is no mistake this is definitely 493 and 494's DNA donor. I myself extracted his DNA."
His dark eyes scanned Dean's face with a look that made Dean very, very uncomfortable. Dean recognized the look he'd seen it before but it made his skin crawl and Dean didn't want to acknowledge it for what it was. "Keep looking at me like that… I'm gonna start chargin'," Dean said lightly but without humor.
Skinny gave a brief chuckle before a frown of confusion pulled creases in between his eyebrows. "But how can that be? He should be older."
"Yes. He was nineteen when I retrieved his DNA in 98," Marshall paused. "And that is why he will be extremely useful to us."
"Useful how?"
"Harvest his DNA and stem cells we can then isolate the gene that is responsible for the slowing in the aging process it will be invaluable in your process."
"Yes yes, of course… excellent Dr. Marshall… excellent. Might I ask what happened to him?" Skinny said a bony finger wagging at Dean's face as he eyed Dean's bruised and battered continence.
"Burke's interrogation method is not what we were expecting. His men got a little carried away before I got there," Marshall replied.
"I thought my instructions were made clear. He was only supposed to capture transgenics not beat them to a pulp," Skinny observed. "Where is Burke now?"
"He remained in Seattle to monitor the situation; he is still trying to locate Eyes Only and the entry into Terminal City."
"I have a plan to deal with Eyes Only he won't be a problem for much longer," Skinny remarked skeptically his beady eyes still on Dean. "Put 494 in procedure room 3, begin preparation for phase one. Dr. Marshall I shall leave the stem cell and DNA extraction, analysis and processing in your hands."
"Yes sir; I'll have a lab set up and begin the extraction as soon as everything is in place," Marshall said, adding to the men flanking Dean. "Take him to the cells for now."
Dean didn't like the sound of that one little bit. He had tried to keep a mental note of where he was and where he had come from. It could prove invaluable sometime in the near future, but Marshall's affirmation of what he'd told him on the plane had made him loose track for a moment. Get it together Dean. Focus!
Dean stumbled and if not for the men holding him he would have gone down as he was propelled forward once more his toes skipping and dragging over the tiled floor. Non to gently he was maneuvered into a hallway branching off the main corridor and a matter of seconds later he was pulled to a stop in front of a thick steel door with a small barred grill window two thirds of the way up. There was a metallic clang as the lock disengaged and it slid open protesting with a metallic squeal; he was unceremoniously thrust through the narrow doorway; stumbling into the small cell he reached out trying to regain some sort of balance but his legs buckled and he was falling he went down to his knees and then tipped forwards his torso and the side of his face slammed hard into the floor sending an ocean of agony crashing through him and he was unable to contain the cry of pain that burst from his dry, sore throat. His eyesight dimmed and as he swam away on a sea of pain he heard the metal door close and the lock slide into place with ominous finality.
-CP-
Awareness returned slowly to Alec. Light! It pressed against his eyelids insistently. He ignored it keeping his eyes firmly shut… listening and reaching out with his feelings. It was quiet or nearly so and cold; cool air from above caressed his skin and a shiver ran through him raising goose bumps along his body. His keen transgenic senses told him he was alone. He felt heavy, weighted and he was in a position that was neither lying nor standing but somewhere in between. Realization of why he felt heavy and cold was like the strike of a sledge hammer to the head; opening his eyes he blinked at the rows of bright white fluorescent tubes marching along the ceiling away from him; the brightness blinded him momentarily forcing him to quickly close his eyes against the onslaught, bright, after images of the elongated blobs burned into the back of his retinas.
He tried to turn his head away before he risked opening his eyes again, but… something was off, he couldn't move, not his head or any of his limbs he was restrained on a hard, surface and it seemed he was naked or nearly so he could feel some tight kind of material possibly lycra covering him from waist to his upper thigh. A momentary burst of panic ran through him sending heat up his spine that spread like a wild fire through him.
Taking a deep breath he mentally calmed himself trying to flex his hands and feet but… nothing no movement was possible his limbs were strapped down and by the tight band that cut across his chest every time he inhaled and the same across his thighs above his knees they too were held firm by similar restraints and he couldn't move or turn his head due to a thick band across his forehead. He was strapped down with leather restraints completely immobile, against what he now could tell was a table, metal, hard and cold contoured and molded to the shape of a body and tilted at a 35 degree angle the bottom of his feet resting on the table's foot board keeping him firm against the table and preventing him from sliding.
As far as he could tell his senses were right he was alone at least at the present time.
That's when he felt it the slight tremor; it ran through his body and the tremor had nothing to do with the cold air spewing from a vent in the ceiling. How long had he been out from whatever drug that dart contained? He knew it was long enough that the serotonin levels in his brain had dropped dangerously low and he hadn't had a dose of Tryptophan since the morning before all this started. Alec knew from experience that the longer he went without Tryptophan in some form the worse the tremors would get until they became full blown seizures.
He pulled against the cuffs around his wrists; he could feel they were lined against him damaging his skin, how thoughtful. But with the dregs of the drug from the dart still in his system even he with his enhanced strength couldn't loosen or break them it was the same with the ankle restraints. He growled in frustration trying to relax his muscles against the table he needed to conserve his energy if he was going to fight whatever they had planned for him.
Dean? What about Dean? Maybe he's in here with me somewhere? He had to open his eyes and look.
Prepared now for the light that would bombard him he opened his eyes a slit looking through the veil of his lashes in an effort to take in his surroundings; mounted on the wall directly opposite just below the juncture where the ceiling met the wall was a video surveillance camera pointed at him the red light a steady glow which meant that someone was watching him at that moment and they would be aware he was awake. From the camera he rolled his eyes as far as he could to take in as much of the rest of the room as possible; it appeared to be some kind of laboratory or operating theater sterile, clinical, cold white walls, steel and chrome fittings with no natural light no windows only the harsh light from the fluoro's above. It reminded Alec of… Manticore and PSYOPS… re-indoctrination; no please not that… not again.
He swallowed convulsively trying to quell the fear. Below the camera was a door, a steel door without a handle; rolling his eyes to the left of the room he saw an IV stand and IV tubing, trays of hypodermics some of which looked big enough to be for elephants and stainless steel surgical implements, to his other side was some other bulky medical type of equipment and a consul this too reminded him of PSYOPS.
Rolling his eyes away from the sight of that equipment Alec felt his stomach drop and his mouth go dry at the thought of the torment he had suffered at the hands of the lab techs in PSYOPS after Ben… and after the botched Beresford agenda and… Rachel. Innocent, trusting, sweet Rachel.
Alec was pulled from his memories his eyes drawn to the door when with a swish it slid open and two people entered. Both the man and woman were wearing pristine white lab coats and a stone-faced expression. Pulling on latex gloves they took from a box mounted just inside the door they crossed the room one to either side of him; the woman was older resembling a dried prune, with thin vertical lines of skin dissecting her cheeks, fine wrinkles framing her lips giving the impression she was sucking on a lemon; she attached electrodes to his head, chest and arms before clipping leads onto them leading to one of the machines to his right. At the same time the man who was the complete opposite of the woman short, round and sweaty his dull brown hair combed forward over his forehead had grasped his fingers tapping at the back of his hand to bring up the veins, he then prodded at a vein with his latex covered fingertip before swabbing the skin with an alcohol wipe. Alec felt the sharp prick as a needle and catheter was inserted deep into and along the vein before pulling he needle out leaving the catheter in the vein tubing was then attached to the catheter and capped off then taped to his hand.
Neither looked at him directly; when they were finished as they turned and walked towards the door Alec found his voice.
"Hey, what the hell is going on? Say something damn it!"
It appeared neither had heard or it didn't register that he had spoken.
"Hey I'm talking to you!" Alec shouted as the door slid open and they left the room.
He felt another tremor course through him and despite the cold, apprehension was beginning to make him perspire, beads of moisture gathered along his forehead, top lip and along his torso and he could feel the beginning in panic deep inside; he tugged against the restraints his thoughts turning inwards; I've got to keep my promise to Sam, the promise I made to him that I'd find Dean and bring him back.
His thoughts were pushed aside when the door opened for a second time.
-CP-
Of all the vehicles Max could have stolen she'd stolen this.
Twenty five minutes after she had ran from the alley at a speed Sam wouldn't have believed if he hadn't of seen it with his own eyes she pulled the vehicle to a jerking stop in front of them.
"Tricks and treats." Joshua said staring at the red and blue flashing lights adorning the vehicle a smile on his canine like face.
"An ambulance?" Sam said incredulously. "Seriously? This her idea of fast transport?"
"Get in," Max called out.
Logan pulled open the passenger door and got in as Sam and Joshua headed to the back pulling open the rear doors they climbed inside pulling the doors closed behind them.
"It's perfect we keep the siren on and lights flashing we can speed, run red lights and sector barriers no one's gonna try to stop an ambulance. We'll be outside the city on our way to Utah in no time," Max explained as she slammed the bus into drive and pressed the accelerator the vehicle lurched forward and Sam was jerked off his feet falling across the thin gurney along the left side of the ambulance.
He felt a hand grasp his arm as Joshua pulled him to a sitting position before sitting down on the gurney opposite.
"Thanks," Sam said grasping the edge of the gurney to stop from flying off onto the floor as the bus took a hard right from the alley onto the street.
"No problem," Joshua replied, grinning and smoothing his long hair with his hands.
Sam couldn't stop the smile that pulled his lips up at the corner in the short time he'd known him he'd seen him do that quite a few times, recognizing the motion as a sign of the big transgenics gentle nature; Joshua was a gentle giant and it was obvious he cared for Alec and his fellow transgenics.
Turning in his seat to face them his eyes darting between Sam and Joshua Logan shouted over the wailing siren, "Everyone okay back there?"
"Okay Logan," Joshua answered with a ruffing laugh.
Logan smiled then looked at Sam.
"Yeah I'm good," he replied.
Turning back to face the front Sam heard him give directions to Max as they speed along the dark Seattle streets lights flashing, siren blaring towards the outskirts of the city.
Max was right they'd speed through the city, crossing from one sector to another with little or no trouble. Once clear of the city Max turned off the siren but kept the lights flashing.
They were making good time.
Just to the west of the small town of La Grande Oregon an hour before dawn Max pulled into a lonely, darkened gas station a sign out front stating- We Have Gas! She broke the lock on a pump and filled up the tank.
Logan took over as driver a few hours after that; Max clambered into the back and sat down next to Joshua he wrapped his arms around her pulling her in close to his chest.
"What do you think people want with Alec and Dean?" Joshua asked.
"I don't know Joshua, nothing good but we will get them back," Max replied a determined look in her eyes as she glanced up at her friend before laying her head against him.
Max's dark eyes landed on Sam sitting opposite, "Sam you should get some rest while you've got the chance."
Sam shook his head, "Don't think that is not gonna happen." He lifted his chin in her direction. "What about you… you've been driving for 9 hours."
"That's okay I don't need it; a few hours here and there is enough for me," she replied.
Must be a transgenic thing? "Right," Sam answered simply.
"Seriously you look exhausted you should at least try, I have a feeling you're going to need to be fresh."
Sam rubbed at his tired eyes he was beyond exhausted the only things keeping him upright were adrenaline which was just about tapped out and the thoughts of what might be happening to his brother. Max had a point; if he was going to be any use to Dean and Alec he needed to sleep.
With a nod in Max's direction he stretched out on the gurney and turned facing the side of the ambulance.
-CP-
The man that entered was flanked by the two white-coated mutes from before.
He was almost skeletal, tall and thin his skin stretched over his jutting cheekbones and jaw his hair cropped so close it was just a dark shadow against his scalp.
Crossing the room he stood to Alec's right a smile of malicious intent and something else Alec recognized as lust curving his thin lips.
"494 we meet again," he said his European accent pronounced and strong.
Alec stared at the man trying to remember if he did in fact know him.
At Alec's look of confusion the man questioned, "You don't remember me?" he put a long bony hand on his chest over his heart. "I'm hurt… and after all the quality time we spent together."
When Alec remained silent the man continued, "Oh that's right I forgot we were never formally introduced." He moved a little closer. "Our paths have crossed on more than one occasion."
"Really?" Alec replied.
"Yes really. Dr. Janos Kovar."
Alec drawled with sarcasm, "I'd shake your hand but I'm a little tied up," lifting the fingers of his right hand for emphasis.
Kovar's eyes followed the movement before sliding back to his face.
"My apologies but I'm afraid very necessary," Kovar said. "So you don't remember me," he repeated. What if I said PSYOPS? Jog any memories?"
It sure as Hell did; memories slammed Alec; memories of PSYOPS and re-indoctrination. After Ben, after Rachel… this man, Kovar was there every time. Alec remembered his cold, bony hands touching, stroking, pocking, prodding, holding him whilst he and others inflicted all kinds of cruel torment and those hands had always seemed to linger longer they should have or needed too; the thought made his stomach turn. He knew what this guy was.
"Ahh I see by your face and the way you tremble… you remember or maybe you tremble because your serotonin levels are low?" he said wagging his finger at him.
Alec tried to sound as if it the memories didn't affect him, "I remember, you sadistic bastard… from PSYOPS you were always there and you were always way too handsy."
"Yes. It was I who invented the re-indoctrination process for Manticore to keep errant young soldiers like you in line."
"I gotta say you enjoy your work a little too much."
Kovar smiled, the expression on his thin face was more like a scary grimace than one of amusement. "Guilty as charged."
"So this… is what, a new form of re-indoctrination, more brain washing?" Alec asked. "Been there done that, bought a t-shirt."
Kovar gave a small laugh patting his arm, his bony fingers lingering on Alec's clammy skin.
Alec's skin contracted at the touch of his skeletal hand.
"That's very funny… but… my beautiful boy this is so much more than re-indoctrination," Kovar's hand left his arm lifting to Alec's face; he stroked his trembling cheek with the side of his index finger.
Alec tried to turn his head away from the man's vile touch but was stopped by the restraining strap around his forehead.
Kovar kept up the repetitive motion as he continued, "A combination of drugs to alter and manipulate the brain wave patterns, and other methods such as cerebral implants and DNA splicing; difference is unlike re-indoctrination which wears off and has to be repeated frequently it is permanent and once completed it cannot be reversed."
"Why… why are you doing this? Manticore doesn't exist anymore." His green eyes stabbing into Kovar's soulless dark stare.
"Why? Because the US government is paying me a great deal of Yankee dollars, that's why." Kovar informed.
"So Phoenix is a cover for the government? Typical."
"A very special, secret branch of it and the military."
"I should have known." Alec admonished himself.
"You are not the first; there have been others unfortunately none successful but you…" Kovar stopped drawing out the moment for effect. "You are going to be my first success, a triumph exactly what your government hired me to create for the military." Kovar said.
"The first success at what?" Alec pushed out through clenched teeth; Kovar's touch was making feel ill. He had to ask although he thought he already knew the answer.
"Super soldier," Kovar paused and smiled, "A prototype for an army. I'm going to take what Manticore gave you and improve on it, manipulate your mind, you will be controlled via the neurological implants to obey all commands without question or feeling, you'll feel no pain as one of the implants will block the pain receptors in your brain, your enhanced DNA thanks to Manticore will be improved upon and together will make you almost invincible, that pesky neurological imbalance will be fixed so you will no longer need to take tryptophan, although that won't matter because you won't be you anymore."
At Kovar's words the churning acid and nausea rolling through him threatened to overwhelm him. He had always wanted to have the serotonin imbalance fixed but not at this cost it wasn't worth the price of losing himself in the process.
"And thanks to the good Dr. Marshall and Dean Winchester's extraordinary genetics slowing the aging process will be added into the mix."
"You think Dean's got some gene that slows the aging process?"
"Yes Dean Winchester is proving to be very useful."
"You are so wrong?" Alec spat angrily.
"As we speak Dr. Marshall is harvesting his DNA when that is done certain genes will be isolated and implanted into your DNA sequence. But before I hand you over to the government you will be mine to do with as I please… you'll be my beautiful, perfect soldier."
Alec felt the acid taste of bile rise into his mouth; he swallowed convulsively trying to force it down.
Kovar stopped the stroking motion, turning his hand to rest his palm against his cheek and jaw, "After that is done and until I have to hand you over to the military I will control the implants and you will do whatever I command of you."
The implied meaning was unmistakable and on some level Alec was glad he wouldn't know when it happened but still just the thought of what Kovar was suggesting made Alec's skin crawl and his stomach clench.
When Alec remained silent Kovar smiled, "I see your tremors are increasing let's get started shall we before they become grand mal." His dark eyes lingered on Alec's face as he stepped back his bony hand left Alec's face moving down over his throat and chest trailing a path across the taut, cringing muscles of his stomach and then further into his groin and down his thigh his hand slipped away as Kovar moved further away around the end of the table he stood directly in front of him observing with a look of sick, perverted pleasure.
Alec breathed again now that there was some distance between him and the slime ball.
"Give him a shot of tryptophan before you begin phase 1," Kovar said.
The man and woman moved in on either side; one injected a shot into the IV catheter then attached a line from it to an IV bag of yellowish colored fluid one word in bold black letters on it, Cephalix before opening the line releasing the fluid into his bloodstream.
The tremors racking Alec's body were increasing and had become constant it would take some time for the tryptophan to get into his system and still the tremors. His heart rate sped up and he began to breathe heavily, whether from apprehension or what they were doing to him he couldn't tell… then he felt it... the... Cephalix; spreading up his arm flooding him with a sensation so cold it burned, seeming to set him on fire from the inside; fingers freezing heat invaded his head until it felt like it was going to explode.
His jaw was forced open and a rubber mouth piece was inserted between his teeth; both eyelids were taped open and a pair of thick strange-looking goggles attached to the machine by wires was fitted tightly over his eyes plunging him into total darkness then a set of headphones were pressed against his ears and now he was blind and deaf and his pounding heart was threatening to burst through the wall of his chest.
A moment later two of his five senses were bombarded; his wide staring eyes with psychedelic-like patterns, flashes of light followed by dark, swirling strobing colors that pierced his retinas much like the laser pointer in PSYOPS had only much more painful; in conjunction with this agony his hearing was assaulted by ear shattering, high-pitched, screeching, meaningless sound.
And he was lost.
-CP-
Dean had yet to open his eyes he didn't have the strength or the inclination.
His throat seemed to be closed over strangling his breath in his throat and he could feel the fever and infection that burned through him; it was as if it was consuming him from the inside out. But the weird thing was one minute he thought he was going to spontaneously combust and the next he felt like he was on top of Mt Everest without a stitch of clothing. At this very moment he was burning; trying to ease some of the heat he rolled his burning cheek against the cool, of the surface he lay on and then he forced his right eye open, because the left one still refused to co-operate remaining swollen shut. He blinked his functioning eye rapidly to clear the stinging, oily sweat and dirt from his vision.
All he could see was concrete; huge slabs and blocks of it, it was the source of the rough, coolness he lay up on and it surrounded him pressing in all around.
Lifting his head from the cool floor he glanced around; this was no fever dream he was in a concrete cell. With a groan of frustration he pushed himself over onto his back; he lay that way for a minute gasping and squinting up at the wire covered light recessed into the concrete ceiling as he tried to gather enough strength to even consider making another movement. Using his right elbow and his heels he levered himself back across the rough floor until his bare spine came into contact with the rough wall; exhausted by just that small movement he slumped against it somewhere between sitting and lying, he was shivering now the spontaneous combustion moment having changed to naked on Mt Everest mode.
Surveying his surroundings through the slit of one eye he guessed his prison was roughly 10 by 8 feet, made of discolored grimy concrete blocks, windowless and sparsely furnished; a skinny drop down bunk hooked to the wall to his right; a stainless steel toilet and small hand basin to his left. The wide, steel entry door directly opposite him with the small barred closed grill and shuttered vent near the floor looked solid and impenetrable and the only way in or out.
The bunk had a thin mattress and a flat pillow and didn't appear to be the height of sleeping comfort but would have to be better than the floor but it was going to require a great deal of effort on his part to get to, unhook and somehow get onto. So he decided not to bother, to try to conserve what little energy he had and remain where he was propped up against the wall.
There was a strange sickly, sweet smell in the air that Dean had smelled before. He sniffed trying to find the smells source; it seemed to be coming from… him. Looking down at his himself he found the smells source right away; his shoulder; it reeked of infection, pus and poison; the smell and the sight of the wound almost made him vomit. The ravaged flesh was puffy, swollen and inflamed; the ragged edges oozed a thick, ropey, yellow and red streaked fluid. Fanning out from the wound in every direction the skin was streaked with red looking; it looked like some kind of alien tentacle monster was under his skin spreading and invading his flesh. Swallowing convulsively to keep the sickness at bay he turned his head away so he didn't have to look at it and smell it close up.
He knew the ramifications of infections left untreated and it was bad, very bad; if something wasn't done about it soon septicemia, blood poisoning and gangrene. Worst case scenario he could lose his arm. An ironic thought came to him, here he was worried about septicemia, gangrene and losing his arm and soon they would come and they would drain and milk him of his bone marrow and DNA he would be dead.
He had idea how long he'd been unconscious or how long had he been here. How long before they came for him? Where was Alec? What were they doing to the kid? Was Sam coming to save them? Did his brother know where to look?
Was smart and resourceful, he'd figure it out… Come on Sammy... if you're coming and God I hope you are, you had better hurry little brother, clocks ticking and time's running out.
-CP-
Kovar looked down at the quaking body of the young transgenic tied down before him. He was a fine specimen of youthful manliness. He could barely resist the urge to go to him, reach out and touch the trembling, fine, golden, lightly freckled skin of his flat muscled abdomen.
His thoughts turned inward he'd been eighteen and still living in his home town of Blatna in the Czech Republic when he had realized he preferred sex with men than with women. He'd kept it hidden for many years until he'd come to America. Homosexuality was so much easier here. He'd taken his share of young men before, some of them willing some by force but never a transgenic or a man as exquisite as 494; he longed to feel his young, lithe body writhing under him as he bit into his shoulder and ran his hands over the taut straining muscles of his thighs.
It was a shame he would have to give him up. But the government and military needed a new weapon to fight their growing number of enemies, domestic and international. And the mess they had made with Manticore had to be cleaned up, what remained of and all traces of Manticore and any transgenic sympathizers included Eyes Only whose broadcasts had started to impact and change the attitude of the citizens of the US had to be erased.
He was the one they had employed to help them achieve both to kill two birds with one stone as it were. For he was the one who would build them a race of super soldiers that could be controlled via the implants, the soldiers would be Manticore bred with their enhanced DNA being an excellent basis. Then with the Cephalix and the implants there would be no Manticore left and they would be almost invincible.
He hadn't left the room after phase one of the procedures was initiated; he wanted to be there to see the process from start to finish. Phase one was now complete; 494's mind had been cleansed, wiped clean of Manticore and everything he knew everything he was before. Phase two had begun; the cerebral implants. The third and final phase was to alter and enhance Manticore's DNA sequencing, splice in other attributes. It would satisfy all the requirements the government and military masquerading under the guise of the Phoenix Foundation had insisted on. He knew when they saw the finished product he had no doubt they would be impressed and the expense of his services would be worth their while.
The powers that be would get what they wanted, but so would he. Janos Kovar always got what he wanted and he wanted 494. So before he had to hand him over he would make him his.
He allowed a satisfied smile to light his skeletal face. Everything was going to plan.
-CP-
Dean had no idea how long he'd been slumped next to the wall, he had fallen into some kind of feverish stupor by the time the door clanged open and the guards filled the doorway, crowding into the small cell, he'd been dragged to his feet his ribs screaming; he would have put up some kind of a struggle if he'd been able but he had nothing left to fight with it was as if his resistance had drained from him along with his sweat. He was hustled from the cell and back into the brightly lit hallway his bare feet dragging along the surface under him, toes catching at the small space between each tile. His vision wavered, his one eye seemed to be giving up on him his vision blurred and darkness closed in at the edges.
A doorway… bright light… white coats… Alan Marshall's smug, satisfied, smiling face swam before his bleary vision, his trembling, fevered body was jostled, moved this way and that and stripped of just about every piece of clothing he had left; cold air hitting his legs as his jeans were pulled off. His breath was strangling in his throat and he let a groan of agony stutter past his lips as he was lifted and slumped face down over some kind of table positioned so his legs were angled down towards the floor. The position effectively bending him at the waist exposing and stretching his spine taut, pulling his vertebra apart making space for the invasion of his spine; the hard cold surface underneath him pushed against his torso the jagged edge of his broken ribs pushing into his insides and against the lining of his lungs causing him to gasp and shudder in agony. His forehead and chin was cushioned on a circular donut like head rest and strapped in place keeping his head, neck and spine aligned. His arms were being lifted out from his sides and turned so the inside of his forearms faced upward exposing the arteries that ran up his arms; the position putting pressure on his shoulders and the suppurating bullet wound, they were secured in that position at the wrists and around his biceps, and then his ankles and thighs were secured the same way.
The roaring that filled Dean's ears and his own harsh panting breaths meant he could barely hear Marshall giving clipped orders to the other occupants of the room. Looking down at the floor tiles through shifting vision at two blood collection bags with IV tubing attached that were resting on a metal tray on each side under the outer edge of the table; he felt pressure on the vulnerable exposed flesh covering the arteries exposed to the air then the prick as needles were jammed into each arm through the skin and meat of his arms, seconds later he saw his own blood flowing down and along the tubing, beginning to slowly fill the blood collection bags. Latex covered fingers prodded at his exposed spine. A few heartbeats later something that felt as large as a crossbow bolt was jammed through the flesh into the space between two of the vertebra of his lower spine; pain, instantaneous like white lightening coursed out and along his nerves to the extremities of his body exploded like a bomb in his head and ripping a harsh, animalistic cry from his throat.
Continued in Chapter 7: Rescue and Escape
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To all the Aussie's out there that maybe reading this have a Happy Australia Day January 26.