I do not own Lorien Legacies or any of the characters.
Interrogation
I stumble, my empty canteen falling into the sand. Six stops, allowing me to regain my balance before we continue. It's roughly three in the morning, and we're out of water. There isn't enough wind or clouds to manipulate, so we can't refill my pack. Aside from that, there's still no sign that we're making progress. Our bodies are cramping from dehydration and exhaustion, and we're barely staying on our feet.
"We can't make it to the mountains without water," Six says, voice hoarse.
"I know," I nod, voice just as bad as hers.
My backpack falls off my arm, landing on the ground, as the canteen and blaster before it. Finally, a solid metal gate comes into vies in the distance. We stagger toward it, having no better plan. When we reach it, we can hear the hum of electricity. The gate is twenth feet tall and topped with spiralling barbed wire. It's not the most inviting sight, but it's the best option we have.
"We could go around, try for the clouds and hope for water or clouds," I say.
"No," Six says. "We both know we won't make it. I don't even have the strength to make a storm now."
"If they're not hospitable, see if you can't get me a gun," I say and she nods.
We make our way to the gate and wave, trying to shout for help, but our voices don't allow much. Fortunately, there's a camera aimed at us. After a moment, Six pauses then lets out a short laugh before hanging her head.
"You know, I could swear I heard Ella just now," Six snorts.
Just then, the unmistakable chopping of helicopter blades begins to rise from inside the base. A moment later, three come into view and the gate opens, dozens of men in full combat gear sprint out, aiming at us.
"Should I?" Six asks.
"Too many," I sigh. "Let's work on getting out, rather than fighting an army. We can get our strength back inside."
Six nods as the men shout to put our hands over our head. Six sets me on my knees before we both place our hands on the backs of our heads. The men rush forward, putting cuffs on us before they haul us into the base. Within seconds there's a bag over myy head and then I feel something slam into the back of my head. I can't tell what, but it doesn't feel like a gun. When the resulting daze wears off, I'm lying down. I have the sensastion of moving side to side and my head is screaming in pain. Pretty sure I got tazed.
I try to lift my hand but it's tied down. I tap my fingers below me and realize it's metal. I groan. My voice echoes like I'm in a small metal box, like a coffin. Probably because I am. I lift my head and my forehead hits the top. I shift right, and my shoulder hits, same on the left. After a moment, a man's voice echoes into the box through a speaker.
"Are you awake?" The man asks.
"No," I say flatly.
He chuckles. "There is some water with a straw to your right. Drink."
I move my tongue around my mouth. It feels like cotton, but it's still managable. At worse, I'll hit heat stroke in a half hour. For now, I think I'll pass on the probably drugged water. Dehydration is nothing new to me.
"Pass," I say.
Big mistake. The box starts to warm. Within seconds it's suffocating and I'm sweating. I can feel my dehydration spiraling rapidly toward heat stroke.
"F...Fine!" I manage to choke out through my body's desire to vomit from the heat.
Air conditioners turn on, cooling off the inside of the box. After a moment, I turn my head, the straw hitting me in the nose. I reach up, catching it in my mouth and take a sip. It tastes aweful. And smells worse. Like the faucet it came from had bad pipes and mold. But it was water. And I could feel my dehydration going away. I take small sips. Drinking as little of whatever drug they put in the water as I can. After a couple of sips, I stop.
"Your name is James, right?" The man asks. "James Ireland?"
"Yes," I grunt.
"You've had quite a brush of misfortune," the man states. "Megan, Krystal, your parents, Jane, Your friend Chad Chadwick. It seems like you're cursed, wouldn't you agree? Being around you seems to be quite hazardous. Tell me, do you fear for your friend's safety? That girl you showed up with? Is she the next victim?"
"Are you accusing me or murder?" I growl. "Are you threatening her?"
"I would never," the man says. "I work for the American Government son. In fact, I'm partly responsible for you and your friends pulling off that little insanity charade. You should thank me. But that's not important now. It's the people you love who usually diefrom your curse, correct? Tell me, is that girl, Six was it?, next on the list? Tell me about her."
"Six?" I blink. How did this guy know she went by Six? "Six what?"
"Look Kid, I know she and her friends go by numbers," the man says. "Just like I know you know about them. Tell me, which have you met? Four? Five? Seven?" My face twitches, and my arms jerk against the restraints. In the dark, they don't know that. "Tell me what you know."
"Alright," I growl, throat starting to feel dry again. "I know that when me and my friend get out of here, everyone that tries to stand in our way will die. And I so pray you're in our way."
I risk taking a sip from the water as my throat starts to hurt.
"Tell me where the others are," the man says calmly.
"Have you checked your ass yet?" I grin. "I doubt they'd fit past your head but it's worth a shot."
I can almost envision the rage on his face when he speaks again.
"Listen here you little shit!" The man seethes. "Where are the others!? Where are the two girls and the boy!? The aliens? Hell, where are Clark Wayne and Jimmy Falcon?"
"You mean you don't know?" I ask, grinning from ear to ear. "They're fucking your mother."
"Do it!" The man snaps.
Suddenly, another voice echoes through the box. Six. Screaming in pain. I grit my teeth, clenching my fisfts and remaining silent.
"You okay?" I ask when she stops screaming.
"Don't tell them-" she screams again but her voice is cut instantly.
"Can do," I growl.
"We'll stop when you talk," the man growls.
"Trust me," I smirk. "Neither of us will talk."
"Is that right?" The man asks, and I can hear a grin in his tone. "How's Marina?"
My stomach drops. The man continues.
"She's number Seven, right?" The man asks. "Don't worry, we'll take good care of her."
I grit my teeth, forcing my rising panic to fall. They don't have Marina. If they did, she would have been visible in the desert before we reached the base. Marina is probably with Eight. She's safe.
"You're very quiet," the man says after a moment.
"Just letting your entertaining psychotic break play out," I say, forcing the worry out of my voice. "So, who's Marina?"
The michrophone goes dead and the box begins to heat up. I grit my teeth, ignoring it. The heat rises. Sweat pours from my body, evaporating instantly when it touches the box. Breathing gets harder and harder. Then, I can no longer force my body to take any air in. I feel like I'm having an asthma attack. Finally, I turn my head, taking a drink. The relief is immediate. I gasp for air, but the heat remains. I know what they want. They want me to drink it all. I reach over to drink, but before I can, my stomach rolls.
I don't even have time to consider holding it in before I'm vomitting. It splatters across the floor, also hitting the side of the glass and tipping it over. The smell hits me like a wall, and I wretch again, more bile and what little food was in my stomach splattering across the floor.
Suddenly, the movement stops. I can't breath. Every time I try to inhale the smell makes me vomit again. Then, I jerk into motion, shooting in the direction of my feet. Light fills my vision but before my eyes can adjust, something comes down on my nose, breaking it and knocking me unconscious again.
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