Jason shot awake in the dark.
Ghostly shadows pressed against his eyelids. Indistinct forms, remnants from dreams.
A puffy fabric beneath him. His face ached—cheek, jaw, back of his head, but especially his nose. He touched it—there was a bandage on it.
Ali's foot hurtling toward him.
A crack.
He winced at the memory.
Other aches and pains gripped him. His hand, arm, stomach, back, legs…nothing seemed to be unscathed. He couldn't recall where he'd gotten all of those bruises….
Worst was his left side, though that was fading. And his left shoulder, throbbing as if blood was pulsing from it. And his chest burned savagely.
Was I tortured and don't remember…?
Or don't want to remember.
He sat up, trying to make his eyes adjust, but there was no light for his vision to latch onto.
A disturbing idea crept into his mind, although he shoved it away, along with the pressing memories.
He stood to feel around for a light switch. Something solid hit his shins and he collapsed back onto the couch. Carefully, he walked along the couch to the right.
His hand slammed into the flat surface of a wall.
Pling!
A screen glowed to life, faintly pulsing beneath his palm.
He yanked his hand away.
A scene gradually materialized – half the wall consumed by a trickling stream, a forest golden in fall. Birds trilling in the trees, calling a haunting song.
His heart flipped over.
The office. Elena.
Before that, the prison—being kicked and shocked. He pressed his left hand to the wound on his chest – the burn that hadn't been spread with salve.
Panic threatened to build to an impossible level and consume him.
He shoved it down for the moment and explored the room.
I have to keep moving. Have to keep my mind occupied. Find a way out. Along with discovering all the intel I can. That's my mission here. I can't waver.
Can't give them any info and can't give in to what they want.
It's a tall order…
But there's no other choice.
The pressure of the grave he'd been buried in gripped him in a vice, cutting off his air. He leaned against the counter in the kitchen, gasping. Breath rasping into his lungs, aching as if he'd inhaled ice crystals.
He sat down in one of the chairs at the table, acutely aware Elliot had been in this exact position yesterday in his room. Jason leaned his head in his hand, images of Connie flashing through his mind.
His heart was ripped inside out, and tears pressed against his eyelids but didn't fall, just made his eyes ache as if filled with acid.
Connie…
Her name synced with the rhythm of his heart. Every heartbeat was her.
Slowly, he recovered enough to check the cupboards, the fridge. A few basic items sat in the middle cupboard- saltine crackers, some generic chocolate flower-shaped cookies, some dried, salted seaweed. In the fridge there was a bottle of wine. And a block of yellow cheese, and 2 water bottles, and a roll of sausage. A bottle of mustard in the door.
I can survive a day in this room. They said I didn't have to go out today… I need rest. I don't want to see any part of this prison, though I'll have to eventually. I wonder if I can really find out much from the slave quarters.
There's always some detail that could be relevant…
Dread filled him when he realized Elena had said she could visit or call for him at any time. He hoped she'd stay busy. He wanted to pretend she wasn't the leader here and he hadn't met her at all. But perhaps I should learn some intel from her, if possible…
He checked the bathroom; it was basic, just a toilet and a sink. A mirror. He glimpsed himself—he looked rough, tired, pale. Bruises making him look even paler than he would've been.
He darted away and wandered over to the bunk bed. Unlike Elliot's, the cover was lavender. There were a few nuances in this room that were different, but Jason doubted it would matter, so he ignored them. He sat down on the couch and turned off the screen.
Then he sank into a dim limbo, not thinking, barely feeling. Sometimes vague thoughts drifted through his mind, but they disappeared before he could grasp them.
Eventually, a beautiful image crept into his mind—Connie looking down at him. Grass beneath his back. The rush of a waterfall.
He immersed in her presence, reveling in her smile and the love burning through her eyes. Haloed by the sun, she moved above him, the picture of grace and wonder… her glory astonishing him each second… awe thrumming through him as she surrounded him, consumed him—a never-ending fire of love
The taste of her lips on his
Her fingers tracing his collarbone
Kisses devouring his skin
Her body displayed before him—stunning, glistening in the sun…
Worshiping it with his lips and hands, displaying her body in new, tantalizing ways… he made sure he gave her as much pleasure as possible before they merged again in pure love….
Ping
Ping
Ping
Insistent sounds from the screen, breaking him out of the depths of his imagination—the glade and his passion fading, though still throbbing through him.
He grabbed the remote from the coffee table, but he couldn't turn it off this time.
"Good morning," said a smooth feminine voice. "Please get dressed and be ready for breakfast in half an hour. Have a wonderful day."
Revulsion hit him and he threw the remote. It bounced off the wall and skidded onto the carpet.
He wandered over to the fridge. He was tempted to take the bottle of wine, but instead he took a water bottle.
I have to keep my strength, even if I don't feel like it….
All he wanted to do was drown himself in imagination. It was painful to think of her until he was with her in his mind, almost as real as reality.
He grabbed some cheese and some crackers and ate on the couch, not caring if he got crumbs anywhere. Though it hit him it was probably up to him to clean this place… either he'd get punished or have to live in filth…
But for now… I think I'm owed some freedom. Something that's not a ridiculous restriction.
He ate half of the cheese and crackers and drank most of the water. Then he tried the television; the first channel had Elena on it, and he flipped it off before he could tell what she said.
He curled up on the couch and sank back into reverie. The only way I'll survive this place…
"Last call for lunch!" came the cheery voice. Jason realized it was the assistant's voice. It made his skin crawl. Acting like all of this was normal. When people were trapped, suffering.
He didn't move from his place, intending to stay there all day. Then, the door swung open. He got up to close it, but it wouldn't close. Guards appeared outside his door. His heart pounded, wondering if Elena had gone back on her word. But of course, the doors had to open, even if you weren't going out, because you couldn't open the doors yourself. That'll drive me insane if I'm here too long…at least I can get out sometimes. Only on their timing. Anger boiled in him.
The opposite door swung open. Two guards entered Elliot's room and dragged him out. His head hung, hair covering his eyes. Still, he struggled weakly in their arms.
They shoved him against the wall, one grasping his chin. "Stop that or—"
Jason leaped up and raced out the door, not thinking of anything but how Elliot didn't need any more manhandling.
"Stop!"
The guard sneered at him. "Or what?"
"Don't hurt him."
"We'll do what we want to him."
"Where were you taking him?"
"The cafeteria. He was resisting. He knows struggling does nothing."
"I'll take responsibility for him. I'll get him there."
The guard looked at him condescendingly then shrugged. "He's not worth our time." They strode down the hallway to another open door.
Jason turned to Elliot. "Are you alright?"
Elliot huddled against the wall, looking at Jason warily, hair straggling over his face. Then guarded gratefulness gleamed in his eyes and he nodded.
"I'll go with you."
Elliot gasped as if he'd been holding a breath. "Thank you. I… I don't deserve this attention."
"Yes, you do. What you don't deserve is…what they've done to you."
Careful not to get too close, Jason led the way to the cafeteria, following the stream of people. Men, women, and children emerged from their rooms and trudged down the hallway, some of them quiet and resigned, some of them chatting in low tones.
Jason wanted to take Elliot's mind off of things. In the process, he'd distract his own mind from the burgeoning panic.
He wasn't sure what to say that wouldn't hurt him, though. All conversation would be either about this place, or about outside. So they walked in silence to the cafeteria.
At the end of the hallway there was a large doorway with natural-looking light filtering from the ceiling. Jason was drawn to it. However, the doorway to the right led to a large room spread with wooden tables and the same sickly yellow plastic chairs as were in the rooms. To the left as he came in was a counter behind glass where people distributed trays of food. People sat on the chairs and ate, some despondently, some speaking to the people beside them. Around the room, guards were posted; a few guards patrolled the aisles. They all wore the same black, nondescript uniforms and black boots, while most of the prisoners wore navy blue shirts and pants with dark shoes. Some of the prisoners, however, wore random clothes—a white shirt, an orange dress, green jeans.
Reluctantly, he headed to the front, shielding Elliot from the guards. Elliot turned away from people's gazes, his hair curtaining most of his face, his navy blue uniform hanging off his thin frame. He limped slightly, walking slowly in a way Jason knew well—trying not to jar his injuries. Jason wondered how he was healing and whether he'd gotten any treatment. His face was crisscrossed with cuts, including a nasty gash across his cheek, only partly healed, no sign of stitches. And then there were the hidden injuries—Jason remembered the knife slashes
And the horrific whip scars. The dislocated shoulder. And…other injuries, which Jason knew had been inflicted at least several times, from several different people.
He longed to comfort Elliot but didn't know how. He could empathize in a way, but compared to what Elliot had gone through, Jason's torture had been a walk in the park.
At the counter, a woman behind it with a hairnet slid a tray in front of him, which had a bowl with vegetables, a plate with noodles, and a smaller bowl with mixed fruit. There was also a piece of sausage and cheese on the plate. It wasn't fancy or the best quality, but it wasn't bad. Of course, they probably didn't want slaves to waste away…
I'm no slave, he thought. Neither is Elliot. We're not what they try to make us.
Jason took the tray and waited for Elliot. Elliot moved stiffly, taking the tray with one hand, the other shoulder hanging limply. Had they even treated his shoulder? If it wasn't popped back in by now, it would be much more complicated to heal….
Jason led the way to a table in the far left corner where there were only a few people sitting so that Elliot could have some space and so that they could be closer to the door.
Jason let Elliot sit down first, and then sat beside him. Elliot chose the furthest corner near the wall. He leaned over, staring at his food, not eating.
Jason picked up his plastic spork and stabbed some broccoli, then slid it into his mouth. It was lukewarm and mushy, but it tasted ok. He ate slowly, giving Elliot time to eat at his own pace.
The others at the table sat a little further down across from him. A young woman helping a little girl eat her lunch. After a gap sat a little boy, pale, with ruffled brown hair. He toyed with the noodles. At the end of the table sat a man with graying hair and a short beard. He attacked his food hungrily. Finally, he licked the dishes clean and clunked them onto the tray then left to the front counter.
Jason turned to Elliot. "El, how are you doing?"
His eyes caught Jason's, intensity in their indigo depths. "P-please," he said, his voice trembling, "Don't call me…El."
"I'm sorry."
"She calls me that. As if we're…bound together somehow." His voice choked off, as if revulsion were strangling him. Then he pursed his lips, anguish wracking his face. "But we are bound. She…made sure of that. For it to be something so wonderful, from something—" He leaned his head in his hand. "You know, don't you…?" he whispered. "She told you?"
Jason nodded.
He closed his eyes. "I never would've… I have a fiancée, you know. I want you to know I didn't—wouldn't have chosen her. Even if it means you knowing…what she did. What I couldn't get away from—" He shuddered. "You saw the videos. So you know… how degraded I am. How weak and pathetic… I don't know how you can stand to look at me."
"Hey," said Jason. "It's not your fault. They have us in their power. If they force you to do something—it's not your shame. It's theirs." He'd wanted to tell Elliot this when he'd first seen him.
Elliot looked at him, eyes narrowed, as if that hadn't occurred to him. He'd been immersed in enemy territory so long, their darkness soaking him… Jason handed him a little flame of light.
"I should've been able to…. At least for her sake… at least… when she was concerned…. Now… I have an illegitimate child who…might become a slave. Even if I get out…how will I face her…"
"Your fiancée?"
He nodded slightly.
"She'll understand. She loves you. She'll know what kind of impossible pressure you were under."
"I should've been able to resist…."
"Elena…she seems like someone who…doesn't take no for an answer." He flinched inwardly. It was apparently true in all aspects. She took what she wanted and didn't ask what you felt about it. Even when it came to the most intimate things.
Elliot seemed to shrink down further. "She gets her way… I tried… I tried so hard…." A tear rolled down his cheek.
"Resisting like that—it must've taken a lot of strength. Doesn't mean you're not strong…just means they're… there's not much you can do when you're in someone's power like that, where they control everything, what you eat, when you sleep…. And I did see that strength. How you still resisted. How you were defiant even…."
Elliot wrapped his arms around himself. Jason was glad to see he could move his left arm; it must just still be tender from its dislocation, not still dislocated.
"If I had any strength before… I think. Last time… even after all of that… they…broke me. I feel nothing. Nothing except fear and this horrible knot inside…. And shame…. I can't get away. I would just… not eat this." He stabbed the uneaten food with the spork. "Waste away. Except…. I can't help it. Maybe because I'm so weak. I…want to see my baby. My little boy."
"That's not weak. He is yours, despite what Elena says. He's more yours than hers because she'll only use him for her own ends."
Elliot nodded. "I wish I could get him away from her… if I had been a woman, I would have carried him. But now… it's impossible. He'll be dependent on her. Even if I could get him away…he needs his mother."
"I don't think I could even call her a mother. It's the opposite of what she says."
His eyes darted to Jason. "I love him. So much."
A twinge hit Jason's heart. He remembered the love he'd had for his baby boy. For him to be taken away, for the object of that love to be gone—
Such emptiness.
What agony it must be for Elliot to be so close, yet so far from his baby. He loved his baby and Elena didn't. It wasn't fair. Was there a chance for him to get his baby from her somehow? After he was born. Two months. Perhaps if we can find a way to escape in two months….
Two months in this place!
The baby was no less wanted because of his origins. Elena wanted him—but for reprehensible reasons. Elliot was the one who deserved to have him, even though he had no say in the act that led to the baby's existence. He was already a good father… it would be best for the both of them to get the baby away and escape…. Far away from Elena's reach…somehow….
Elliot sat back, most of his food untouched. "I told them I couldn't eat…."
The young woman and the girl had left, leaving the little boy. At least two-thirds of the people in the cafeteria were gone.
One of the guards strode over to Jason's table and Elliot hunched down. But the guard took no notice of him or Jason. Instead, he slid in beside the little boy. He ruffled his hair. "Hey, Tim. Why didn't you eat your food?"
The boy slid away, shaking his head. He looked about five.
"Now, don't be like that." The guard grabbed his arm. "You know Zar wants you to grow big and strong."
The boy trembled in the guard's grasp. Beside Jason, Elliot stiffened, sitting taller.
"Here," said the guard. "Why don't I help you." He picked up the spork. Scooped several chunks of fruit onto it and slid it toward the boy's mouth.
The boy kept his mouth closed.
"You know if you don't eat, I'll have to force you."
Tim struggled away but he was too small for the guard's strength. The guard dragged him back and sat him on his lap. "Now, let's eat."
Elliot slid his chair back, standing. "Leave him alone."
The guard glanced at Elliot then focused on the boy again. Wrenched open his jaw, stuffing the food into it.
"I said stop," said Elliot. He charged over to the guard, hesitated, then grabbed the spork and tore it from his grip. It clattered to the floor.
The guard stood with a deliberate slowness and brushed off his uniform. Then he glared at Elliot, staring him down from his lanky muscular height. His hand darted out and grabbed Elliot's jaw. "Craving some more punishment?" His thumb brushed the gash on Elliot's cheek. "You must be a masochist."
Jason strode over to them. "Let him go."
The guard laughed gruffly and released Elliot. "One more interruption and I'll beat you black and blue." Elliot shuffled backwards, trembling. The guard turned to Jason. "Now you—you're clearly not broken yet. The new arrival." He patted Jason's arm in mock comradery. "You'll get your turn. Orders are to keep the punishment light for now, but if you continue to cause trouble, we do have the prerogative to make sure you know your place." He smirked.
"Then stop bullying children."
The guard laughed. "It'll be fun breaking you. But you can have your space—for now." He strode away and stopped near another guard, speaking to her, and laughing.
Elliot was sitting beside Tim. "Are you alright?" he asked.
Tim nodded.
"You shouldn't have to eat if you don't want to. But…maybe if you do, you'll feel better."
"You didn't eat." Tim glanced at Elliot's full plate.
"Maybe I should. Hey—if I eat it, will you eat yours?"
Tim hesitated, then nodded. Jason slid the tray over to Elliot and he picked up a sporkful of noodles. He grimaced then slid it into his mouth. After a few minutes, he had eaten half of it, which encouraged Tim to eat his.
Jason sat beside Elliot, marveling how helping the little boy had made him forget his own trauma.
After Tim had eaten most of the food, he set his spork down, looking troubled. "Will…he come back?"
"The guard?"
Tim shook his head. "Zar," he said, his voice treading soft with horror.
Elliot hesitated, then said, "He…usually does come back."
"Maybe he'll get in an accident."
"Maybe. He does drive too fast."
"If he comes, will you protect me?"
"If…if I see him."
Tim huddled down, eyes dulling.
"I wish I could always fight him away from you…" said Elliot softly. "From all of you."
Back in his cell, after the guards 'encouraged' them to return to their rooms, Jason formulated his mission. He had to keep focused—and keep from falling into despair.
Resist them no matter what. Don't give in to what they want. To how they want to manipulate me.
Find a way out.
Gather intelligence.
And… at the very least… don't panic. Don't let it get to me. Do whatever it takes to not go crazy.
That might be all I can do… not enough, because I won't be able to survive this place forever. I'm not sure when it'll get to me but the crushing weight of it… even without being tortured… This is torture enough. To be trapped.
It's a race against time. Keep control until I can find a way out. That's the priority.
I need more intel to begin to figure out a plan…. Or at least, improvise, though I don't know if I can do that here, with so much mechanized against me…
He realized he had a powerful ally, though. Infinitely more powerful than Yavesh.
You're my rock and my strength, a very present help in times of trouble.
He knelt before his couch, elbows on the cushions, praying fervently, psalms weaving effortlessly into his cries for help.
Eventually, he fell asleep, all worry washed from his mind.
The pinging woke him again. He tried to ignore it, even when the door opened. He was in no mood to go out, even for supper. It wasn't even supper yet, just free time.
Still… going out was better than staying in this small space…
Maybe I can find some clues, he thought drowsily.
He stretched and climbed to his feet. He still wore the same clothes he'd been brought in; he wondered when he could take a shower. Although he wasn't especially enthusiastic about communal showers….
He strode out into the hallway. Peeked into Elliot's room; Elliot was lying on his bed and Jason didn't want to disturb him, whether he was sleeping or not. Apparently he wasn't required to go out this time; it was best he get all the rest he could get.
Jason sauntered down the hallway. He was curious about the room with the natural light. Past the cafeteria he stepped out into a large round room— where he could finally breathe. It was vast, with a cathedral ceiling stretching several stories high. From a glazed window at the top, light shone down. He almost fell to his knees with relief.
Maybe I won't go crazy since I have access to this room….
He could see himself spending many hours here.
The sounds of footsteps and voices echoed unintelligibly off the walls, mingling with the sound of running water. Trilling of birds. Not just an illusion but real! Unless…
He strode toward the fountain on the right. Water splashed in tiers, a pool below it in cement. A stream was embedded in the stone floor, which circled around the room to the other fountain. A flash of gold—a fish! Purple and white fish also swam in the gentle current. Jason sat down on the cement base of the fountain and dipped his hand in the cold water. Let it rush against his palm. He closed his eyes.
"Hey," said a voice. Jason turned to see a man sitting down a few feet away. It was the same man from lunch, with had curly graying hair and a salt and pepper beard. "I'm Rick."
"I'm Jason."
"Sorry I didn't say hi before. I was starving after a hard shift this morning."
"That's okay. I'm still…adjusting to everything."
"It's a lot to adjust to. I'm…sorry you ended up here. S'pose you're thinking I'm a little out of place here?"
Jason shrugged. Smiled. "A little."
"I'm the head janitor. They interviewed me and the next thing I knew, I was here. Wouldn't do to have a janitor that was free to come and go as he pleased. If I don't make trouble, they mostly leave me alone. Believe me, I'm aware of that privilege every day." He looked away, troubled. "You aren't here to join my team, are you?"
Jason shook his head.
He pursed his lips, sorrow engulfing his eyes. "Perhaps you're…in the test subject group?"
"Not that I know of."
"Just wondering, since you're not as…young as most personal slaves."
"They want me to be an agent."
His eyes widened. "Since you're down here, it means you're not cooperating."
"I don't intend to."
"Good. But it means they won't give you the royal treatment. Instead, they'll give you special treatment of another kind." He shook his head. "Sorry. I haven't known anything else for… six years. If there's anything I can help you with…anything you want to know…." He looked at Jason earnestly.
"I know I have a lot of questions…just…happy this room exists."
"It's a good room. The only one that doesn't make me sick. The others…." He dropped his eyes. "Nothing bad seems to happen here. Too much beauty…. Even if it was made by them."
"So…Yavesh made all of this?"
"I'm not sure if this was here before, actually. But they're the ones who put in the fountains. The birds, and the plants. I'm not sure why except…keep us from going totally crazy." His shoulders sagged as if under the weight of years.
The insidious purpose darkened it a bit; still, you could at least pretend. Forget…just feel the present…. Perhaps rest my mind enough to actually think clearly. I've got to keep my mind honed if I'm going to resist, gather intel, and escape….
Rick told him some useful things, like the implant in the back of his neck also was a punishment device. If you tried to go up the stairs to the first floor, you would be shocked automatically. That was what was in place instead of a door.
The numbers on the doors had no rhyme or reason, except perhaps known by the bosses.
A lot of things didn't make obvious sense. Sometimes punishment was completely arbitrary. Speaking the word 'escape' was strictly forbidden—there were some other words forbidden too. Somehow the monitors were triggered by those words, and you were punished, no matter the type of slave. Rick wrote the words with his finger in water on the cement; they quickly disappeared, but Jason memorized them. He'd have to come up with a code of some sort.
The little boy, Tim, appeared, wandering along the edge of the room, reminding Jason of what he'd said earlier. "Do you know who Zar is?"
"Bad news. You never know what'll happen when he appears. He's some kind of nobility, and he's some kind of partner of Elena. I think he's actually more like the son of her partner. He can get away with things no one else can. She indulges him—but sometimes he goes too far even for her. I've seen him throw parties when she was away without her knowledge. I've seen him swagger through here, punishing people at will for imagined slights to his 'honor'. He's taken slaves that were supposed to be exclusive to others… and hasn't had any consequences, to my knowledge."
The last part of the description gave him a stir of unease. "What does he look like?"
"Wavy blond hair, slim, always wears the most fashionable clothes. He's young, mid-twenties, ridiculously good-looking, though he has this infuriating manner that makes you want to slap him. But if you did, he'd beat you within an inch of your life."
"I…think I met him. On the way here."
Rick nodded. "He does sometimes ferry people here. No one knows where exactly 'here' is, though, because if we aren't unconscious when we get here, we're blindfolded."
"Do you have an idea of where we might be?"
"Some slaves hinted they knew, but they couldn't tell because of the autoshock. I've…tried to… you know. But they punished me so hard that I couldn't work for two months." He patted his leg gingerly. "This leg still doesn't work right. I…don't think I can tell you…what little I know."
"I understand. Thank you for all the info."
"You're welcome." He looked at his watch. "Well, I'm due for a job." He hefted himself to his feet, resigned dread in his eyes.
"Do you need any help?" Jason wanted to return the favor.
Rick shook his head. "If you're not assigned, you're not allowed. You also…don't want to do this job. It's on the third level."
"What's there?"
Dismay flashed through Rick's eyes. He shook his head. "You don't want to know. Hopefully, since you started out on this level, you never will." He turned and limped away to the hall on the other side of the Cathedral Room.
Jason slid off the fountain base and walked to the right side of the room, near where Tim was. He was chatting with a little girl near a bird cage. Water flowed down the rumpled wall, collecting in pools, then disappearing in cracks beneath. Moss and flowering plants clung to the walls. Along the edges, tropical plants were arranged in pleasant clusters, some of them small palm trees, some of them actual fruit trees like oranges, bananas, lemons. Bird cages were distributed aesthetically among the branches of the trees, some almost hidden in their shade. Some birds hopped along the tops of their cages, nibbling at leaves that got between the bars. There were bright yellow canaries, parrots, parakeets, doves. Jason sauntered toward the children, not wanting to alarm them or intrude. They were sliding leaves into the cages for some parakeets. Jason was glad he had someone to have fun with and that he wasn't collapsed in fear. He slid further away and examined a lemon above him. He was just about to pick it when a small voice said, "Stop!"
Jason whirled around to see Tim and the little girl looking at him, alarmed. They huddled together and backed away a little.
Jason knelt, making himself look nonthreatening. "What's wrong?"
"Y-you – can't eat the fruit," said Tim.
"Why?"
"They won't let you. Even if it falls on the ground."
"That's horrible."
The children both nodded.
"I'm Jason, by the way."
"I saw you yesterday," said Tim. "You helped Elliot."
"You know him?"
"He helps me. Even if they—" He looked down. Then earnestly back at Jason.
"I'll help you too. No matter what." So…Jason had another mission. Even if it might interfere with his other missions. Even if it meant…being punished. But he couldn't help it. Couldn't leave small children to monsters like Zar.
"My name is Tim."
"Hi, Tim."
"This is Alelu." He gestured to the girl, who looked at him with large, crystalline blue eyes. She was a little taller than Tim, maybe six or seven, and had masses of golden curls pulled in a semblance of pigtails. She wore a periwinkle blue dress and blue shoes. "She doesn't talk much to strangers."
Alelu gave a little wave.
"Hi, Alelu," said Jason. "It's really good to meet you."
Alelu blushed.
"We're roommates," said Tim. "She helps me, since she's always been here."
"She's always been here?"
Tim nodded. "Since she was born. She knows how to work all the things in my room. I just came here like a month ago. Ally showed me how to make a calendar on the wall they don't see. She says it's important not to lose time."
"She sounds very smart."
Tim beamed "She's the smartest here. And she made me feel better when I was very sad after I came here. And after…." He seemed to crumple in on himself. For a moment his eyes strayed, and he looked lost in a horrible memory. Then turned to Ally. "You don't have to be scared of him."
Ally looked doubtful, then nodded slowly. She was a beautiful child, pale yet with rosy cheeks, her hair a burnished gold. Her brilliant eyes brimmed with innocence and light, yet they were drowning in infinite sadness. She was the picture of good health and yet pain drew through her, making her seem weighed down by a heavy burden beyond her years. There was a bloom of wisdom in her eyes, etched there by years in this place, overwritten by an uneasy resignation, as if hope had never lived in her small body.
There was also something familiar about her he couldn't quite place. And, beyond the effusion of hair, a red striation that crawled from her jaw down her neck. Jason was horrified it was a scar, but then he realized he'd seen birthmarks like that before.
A resounding of footsteps behind him. He turned around, simultaneously shielding Tim and Ally.
A man grabbed a woman's arm just as she was about to pick a flower from the wall. "Ah-ah-ah," he said. "None of that." Two guards flanked him. The woman backed away in fear. She had long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and she looked rail-thin. She tried to struggle, but the man gripped her arm bruisingly hard. He yanked her forward. "Let's go have some fun."
"Please," she said in a desperate, raspy voice. "Not again."
He chuckled. "I get at you any time I like. You still can't get that through your pretty head." He tapped her temple.
He was tall with a cruel, sneering face. He dragged her out into the middle of the Cathedral Room. Her screams echoed against the walls. Everything else seemed to fall silent, except the shrieking of the alarmed birds.
"Where are you taking me?"
"The entertainment room, of course!" He rasped close to her ear, "Just be happy I'm not in the mood for voyeurs or I'd take you right here."
Jason was frozen, his heart sinking into his stomach. Stunned out of the beauty of this place to the utter horror that resided here.
He shook himself of his shock and, shakily, strode toward the man. He knew it probably wouldn't end well for him, but still, he couldn't stand by.
The guards blocked him before he reached the abuser. They held out their shockrods warningly.
The abuser turned, looked at him with eyes narrowed. Then a smile slid across his face. "Ah, it's the new arrival. Let him approach."
The guards parted, looking reluctant, and Jason strode up to him. "Let her go."
The man's eyes glittered with amusement. "And what will you do about it?"
"I bet you aren't so tough when faced with someone stronger than you," Jason bluffed.
The man laughed raucously, the sound hideous in the room's acoustics. "Even if you could touch me, you'd fail. Why don't we try an alternative. I'll let you share her. You're intended to be one of us, so it won't be a breach of protocol."
A pang of revulsion hit his stomach. "You're disgusting."
"Just look at her." He squeezed the woman's jaw. "She's not stunning, but she's not bad looking, and her body's divine. Don't tell me you aren't tempted."
Jason had had enough of this. He rammed his fist into the man's face
Only – it was like he'd hit a brick wall
He was thrown backwards and landed hard on his back. Shocks clamped down on his limbs and he could feel his body convulse.
The hard, cold floor beneath his back. Shocks biting into his joints. Skittering over his body in random jolts. Only as he lay there gasping did he realize how much pain he was in. He stifled a scream. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
Harsh laughter, a patter of footsteps, a sobbing whimper, fading into the distance, then consumed by the rush of the fountain. The birds resumed their twittering as if nothing had happened.
Two startled faces looked down at him.
Tim, looking concerned. "Are you okay?"
Jason nodded. Or tried to. His body still wouldn't obey. He struggled to sit up, hating this vulnerability, managed to arrange his limbs in a semblance of normalcy, leaning hard on the arm that was still trembling with pain, stray shocks nipping his skin. He slid his rubbery legs underneath himself and huddled down.
He breathed in the darkness, his body folded over, arm shielding his face. Willing the vague sickness to vanish. Finally he forced his back to a straightened position.
A curled leaf appeared beside him, water shimmering in it. Alelu brought it to his lips. He understood. He drank, the cold water delighting his parched throat.
"Thank you," he said, his voice hoarse. "Those rods sure pack a punch."
Ally shook her head. "It wasn't the rods," she said in a soft voice. "If you touch the Admins, you get shocked." She touched the back of her neck.
"Who are the admins?"
"The ones that aren't guards," said Tim, kneeling beside Ally. "The ones that own us."
"But if you can't even touch them… there has to be another way to stop them."
Ally shook her head. "They can do whatever they want with us." She sat down, folding the empty leaf, not looking up.
"There has to be a way out…." Despair tugged at him. He shoved it down.
Hope filled Tim's eyes. "Maybe we can get out together."
"I will take you with me."
"Ally! You can come too!" Tim grabbed her arm.
She turned to him stiffly. Shook her head. Her face blanched with horror. "No…they'll kill you."
"We've got to take this place down. For good." Rage boiled in him. This horror could not, should not exist. I will find a way. Crush them. Turn their tech back on them. And bring these children out into the light. And men and women, people who are not slaves but beautiful beings who deserve love. Deserve all the comfort they can get after this.
He tried to push himself to his feet, but his legs were too wobbly. Frustrated, he rested a moment and then, with Ally and Tim's help, he stood shakily, his knees threatening to collapse. The kids helped him to the fountain. Before he got there, a group appeared on the opposite side of the room. He turned to see if they were the same as before, but it was another man, flanked by other guards (though he couldn't be too sure; all of them looked hopelessly similar with their close-cropped hair, which all seemed to be the same tone of brown, and honed bodies of roughly the same size.). This man was shorter, yet muscular, with black hair. Behind him, the guards dragged a body.
Jason's heart dropped.
As they got closer, he realized the body was moving weakly. Blood slathered the man's back, chest and arms, his face nearly covered in blood, eyes swollen. Half of his body was purplish with bruises. Blood streaked the floor in his wake.
Jason trembled to help the man, but he knew it wouldn't end well for him and it would be futile. Instead he shook with rage and the remnants of the powerful shock. Hated that he was so powerless. Even if he had been at optimum, he could have done nothing.
As they approached, something struck Jason—there was something familiar about the man in black. His almost fanatic dark eyes. He veered away from the others, and to Jason's horror, strode over to him. He just had time to sit down on the edge of the fountain, knowing his legs couldn't support him long, though he hated being lower than this man when he could've towered over him.
The kids darted away into the leaves, and the man stopped a few feet away from Jason as the guards dragged the prisoner down the hallway and disappeared.
"Hello, Jason," said the torturer.
Of course! That's where I saw him.
The videos of Elliot.
Chills iced Jason's spine. He fought the urge to run. Perhaps I can fight—no. I doubt I can touch him, either.
Jason scrambled for a semblance of bravado. "You know me, but I don't know you."
"I think you do." His deep brown eyes glinted. "But we've yet to be properly introduced. I'm Kell. It's good to meet you."
"I wish I could say the same." I wish I could come up with something more original. But my brain was a bit fried….
The man chuckled indulgently. "Forgive me for appearing in such a state." He brushed at his uniform.
Jason's stomach turned over.
Bloodstains. That's all they could be. Covering most of the dark fabric. He reeked of blood. An impulse hit Jason to push him into the stream—then he thought the better of it. He didn't want to contaminate it. Less with the blood than with this man's evil.
"But I just had to come and meet our newest star. We'll be spending some time together. I'm the one Elena trusts to get at her most recalcitrant subjects. I can cut straight through bone and marrow to the heart." He tapped Jason's chest, just over the bullet scar. His eyes raked Jason searchingly. "I must say, you're not as impressive as she made out. You have been broken down a bit, and we'll have to break you further, using your scars as guidelines. Hopefully something beautiful will emerge. You'll shed this old husk and become a grand fighter for our cause. I'm not holding out much hope, to be honest. Still, it'll be an interesting challenge. Perhaps there's more to you than meets the eye—and more than your profile shows. My apotheosis is hewing diamonds from their origins, cutting, and polishing them. We'll see what happens with you. If you fulfill your promise to be one of the greatest of us." He looked at Jason with doubt in his eyes, piercing to Jason's heart even now, though Jason refused to give him any satisfaction he'd gotten to him. "Perhaps just a normal guard—if you end up cooperating. I must admit, Elena has insights no one else has. She must see something extraordinary in you; I'll have to trust that. Follow her guidance and not shatter you. Though I'm perfectly capable of shattering anyone, no matter how strong they are. Let's see what you're made of soon. We'll have a preliminary chat; how'd you like that?"
"I never want to be in the same room with you." Hatred lanced out of Jason's eyes.
"Don't worry, my orders are to keep you pristine. Elliot was a discard. His degradation was only for the benefit of an audience. It's off the table with you, but there are other things we can use… other sorts of humiliations that crush a man's pride." He grinned as if proud of being able to carve up men like meat. His hand snaked to Jason's face. Jason jerked away but couldn't go too far or he'd topple into the fountain. And he was still horribly weak. Kell's hand thrust back to his jaw, rubbing it, Kell's head tilted as he examined him. His narrowed eyes flitted over Jason's body as if checking inventory of what he'd soon rifle through indiscriminately. Crushing Jason's jaw in a vice grip, his other hand explored Jason's chest, pressing into his muscles. "Not bad. Could be bulked up a bit, though. But for now, this suits our purposes." He slid his hand to Jason's side
Jason gasped in pain as he jabbed at the bullet wound. Then ran over Jason's other wounds, as if he'd known exactly where they were.
The man's hand slid between his legs and Jason grabbed his wrist. Stunned to find that electric current wasn't coursing through him, slamming him into the water which would surely kill him. A fail-safe maybe?
Kell grinned and lifted his hand away. "All in time. I suppose you're wondering why you weren't autoshocked?"
Jason didn't dignify that with a nod.
"Us breakers don't often use it. We like the purity of being able to interact with a prisoner, nothing between us. In a way, all of the slaves here belong to us. We follow orders, but we also have leeway because of our position and expertise. It was my idea to send the worst possible pressure to Markov. And it worked."
An abhorrent shiver raged through him. Looking fully at what this man had done—it was hard to realize, even though Jason had seen part of it. "You—hurt him."
"Yes," he said gleefully.
Jason grasped his arm. "You should be killed for what you've done."
Jason slammed the man's hand into the concrete –only, somehow, his hand writhed out of Jason's grip and seized Jason's wrist
Jason tried to tear away but the grip only tightened and yanked Jason's arm up—the more he struggled, the more pain lanced through his shoulder. In a second, he was kneeling on the floor, arm flat against his back, a knee grinding into his spine as he faced the slate tiles. He tried to move but couldn't.
He sat there interminably, fuming that this man had gotten the better of him so easily, angry at his body for betraying him, shame slicing into him, gradually stabbing deeper until it was the only feeling that remained. His face throbbing. His back aching.
Finally, he was released. He still couldn't move.
A fist grabbed his hair, yanked his head up. "Quite a pathetic beginning. Doesn't look promising." He turned and strode away.
Tim and Alelu slowly sneaked closer, and, after asking them if it was okay, he gathered them into his arms.
He didn't go to supper; he felt too shaky. Instead, he recovered and nibbled on some snacks. Shame still soaked him. He hesitated a moment, then grabbed the bottle of wine from the fridge and lost himself in oblivion.