Chapter 50 Carver
“I can’t do this anymore.” He watched himself say the words. He watched his form turn to walk away. He watched Clara’s face crumple and her shoulders fall.
He watched as he again walked away like all of those years ago.
He tried to yell at himself, tried to tell Clara that wasn’t him, he wouldn’t hurt her like that.
But his mouth wouldn’t form the words and everything hurt.
The pain rushed in like a tsunami until it covered every inch of him and became the only reality.
He tried licking his lips, but his mouth felt incredibly dry and he couldn’t figure out what was happening to him. This couldn’t be right.
His heart rate spiked, and his only thought was he couldn’t breathe. The air felt weird. Almost thicker somehow. Clara’s image swam before him until she was no longer Clara. She was gone and there was nothing but black.
Had he gone blind? No. His eyes must be closed.
He was then brought back to the awareness of his body.
Every nerve in his body was on fire. His brain was fully consumed by the pain.
He tried to open his eyes, but the most he could manage was a twitch.
He tried harder, pushing the fear aside for determination.
What happened? Where was he? Why couldn’t he open his eyes?
“Subject is waking up. Shall we administer another dose of anesthesia?”
“No, no. Let him wake up.”
“Yes sir.”
Straps rubbed across his wrists and he tried to squirm against them but they wouldn’t budge. His eyelids resisted heavily as they opened, and he blinked against the harsh light in his face.
“Dr. Nathan, do you feel it necessary to blind my subject? Please, allow him the courtesy of adjusting to the room without the surgical light directly above his irises.”
“Yes sir.”
The light was removed and when Carver opened his eyes again, everything blurred in front of them but he could see.
The bed shifted until he was brought to a sitting position.
He raked his tongue across his lips, but his mouth was far too dry for it to be beneficial.
He flinched at small pinches near his elbow, and tried to yank away but the straps around his wrists continued to hold firm.
Instead, he could only stare as the two people in blue uniforms removed the needles.
The one on the right dabbed roughly at the blood that pooled after removing the needle, and Carver gritted his teeth to avoid cussing.
“Where am I?” His voice grated out and he tried to clear his throat.
The nurse on his left held up a cup of water, allowing him to swallow a couple mouthfuls unsteadily, the excess dripping down his chin.
He tried to remember before—before the blaring lights, before the straps, before the all-consuming pain. How had he ended up in a hospital? Was that even where he was? No. He wasn’t sure where he was at all.
“Mr. Vaughan, yes?”
He swallowed. The fog in his brain finally allowing him some semblance of memory. Clara. She had been in the labs. The cool metal in his hands. A gun. He allowed her to escape. He was not as fortunate. He preferred it this way.
“Who wants to know?” His voice was clearer now, but even he could hear the weakness in every word.
“My name is King Herring. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”
Carver hissed as another needle was inserted into his arm.
King Herring stood in front of him, eyebrows raised.
He was prematurely gray. That was the first thought Carver had.
Although he was a monster, and everyone knew him to be some heinous ruler, somehow that was the first thought he could make sense of. He must be severely drugged.
King Herring could have been considered handsome. Not much older than 30. Broad shoulders, and he carried himself with all the regality and authority befitting his station. His hair hit his shoulders in a straight cascade and every single piece was gray.
“It is unwise to anger a King, Mr. Vaughan.”
“What do you want with me?”
King Herring tsked, “Now, Carver, I know you are smarter than that. Do you actually expect I will answer your questions?”
“Worth a shot,” Carver spat back.
He yanked his wrists and thrashed against the bonds, but nothing moved or gave any leeway. “Ooo, he is feisty,” the king chuckled. “That bodes well for surviving our experiments.”
Carver froze momentarily. Until that moment he was convinced his capture was his death warrant.
But there were far worse fates than death.
Images flashed of the creatures he and Clara had seen at the festival.
Was that what was to become of him? Another creature?
No longer human in the eyes of others? Someone for Clara to pity or revile?
“That got your attention.”
“I’m not an experiment.” Carver growled.
“Not. Yet.”
King Herring stepped back from the table and took a seat in a plush chair in the corner. With a single motion he ushered everyone out of the room. Carver had to awkwardly lift his head from the bed to fully see the king.
“Tell me about yourself. Name? Age? How you came to be in my lab?”
“Go to hell.”
“Believe me, Mr. Vaughan, you do not want to make this difficult for me.”
He moved his thumb across something in his hand and Carver’s veins erupted in a fiery sensation. Whatever poison was in the needle spread through his body, and every nerve was on fire. He groaned, unable to resist the sound as he tried not to succumb to the darkness again.
He squinted his eyes as he attempted to breathe through the pain, but to no avail.
He tried to recall all of his training, all the he had endured, but the pain was too great to form a complete thought.
A scream clawed its way up and left his throat hoarse before the king relented.
The second he stopped whatever he had been doing, the pain faded to a dull ache.
Carver’s entire body ached, and each breath hurt.
“Now, are we feeling a little more chatty, Mr. Vaughan?”
Carver closed his eyes tightly. What could he say that wouldn’t compromise Clara?
What could he reveal that would still protect his kingdom?
He’d rather die than harm Clara. Unfortunately, he may not be given that option.
“No?” King Herring moved as though to turn the dial on again.
Carver’s entire body tightened in preparation, and he tasted stomach acid at the back of his throat.
“My name is Carver Matthew Vaughan.” He slowly answered, the words sticking in his throat.
“Carver Matthew Vaughan. A strong name for an albeit underwhelming boy.”
He was in too much pain to take offense, but his vision cleared enough to focus on the king’s leering smile. “Tell me, Carver Matthew Vaughan, how did you come to be in my labs?”
He grunted. “I got lost.”
The searing pain entered his veins again, and he could barely hear himself screaming. When the king relented, he did so with a laugh. “You shot at my soldiers. Wounded three. You helped a thief escape.”
Carver groaned again, unable to think straight enough to provide a response.
“You gave no attempt to escape. It was shocking, almost. Except that the thief was a girl. Someone you cared about perhaps? Maybe you thought yourself capable of protecting her? We have not found her yet, in case you were wondering.” The first bit of relief Carver had felt.
“But do not worry, we will. She must be something else. Truthfully, she got further than anyone would have considered possible. Our security system is top tier, but her little rendezvous has let us see just how far we have fallen. Times of prosperity do bring complacency, it is true. But we will use her endeavor as a framework to redesign our security. Rest assured, a break in will never again be possible.”
Carver gritted his teeth, his vision nothing more than sparks. Everything hurt, and all he could hope was that King Herring was wrong and Clara was long gone. Surely, she wasn’t stupid enough to try and come back for him.
“I will leave you to recover, Mr. Vaughan. I hope our future conversations will be much more fruitful. We shall have many such conversations imminently. You should take the opportunity to consider what type of experiment you would like to become. There are options. You have seen our creatures, I’m sure.
But something so benign does not seem like the ideal for you.
Perhaps you could be in our newest idea for experiments.
We are creating a line of super soldiers.
You have the build for it. Your body should respond well to the…
well, let us call it what it is, Mr. Vaughan, invasion.
And with a little more training you will be made to comply. ”
The door shut behind the king and Carver closed his eyes.
They did it. Clara had the biological weapon, and she could make it back to Quorath without him. She was safe. The price of saving their nation was only his life.
It was a price he was more than willing to pay.