Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
But Barnes ends the day by telling me we’ll meet in the morning, and nothing else.
I want so badly to help him. I can’t explain it, but there is a part of me that is so, so certain that this is something I’m supposed to do.
I swear, when I climb into bed and reach for the dusty, neglected box that sits under my mattress, my intent is to get him off my mind.
As the vibrator buzzes to life in my hands, I shut my eyes and tuck myself beneath the sheets.
I try to relax, bringing the toy under my pajama pants, rubbing myself slowly through my panties.
Letting the pleasure chase away my thoughts.
The room is quiet except for the buzz of the vibrator and my soft, panting breaths. A pleasant blankness settles over me. No thoughts of work, of guilt, of God, of—
X-16’s hand, so large against my own.
No, no. I can’t be thinking about—
My finger under his chin, tipping his head up to face me.
A leather strap closing over his pale wrist.
Many of my sexual encounters grind to a halt when I make my preferences clear, but I bet that he would submit so sweetly…
“Fuck.”
I shut off the vibrator and toss it aside.
Even in the privacy of my own room, my own thoughts, I can’t push away the guilt twisting up my insides.
Pleasure too often leaves me feeling queasy with shame afterward, especially given that my tastes are…
a bit unusual. Throwing thoughts of a subject into the mix only makes it harder for me to stomach. I can’t think about him like that.
If there is a God out there, surely he must be judging me right now.
After a moment, I curse and climb out of bed. If anything can help me sleep, it’s more whiskey.
The next morning, I walk into the MRF with a slight hangover and a dangerous amount of hope.
“So?” I ask, the second Barnes meets me in the lobby. I can’t bear to wait; my stomach churns with anticipation. Well, anticipation and the aftermath of all that whiskey last night.
Barnes sips his coffee and regards me over the top of the mug. “Good morning to you too.”
I fold my arms over my chest and arch a brow at him.
He sighs. “Walk with me.”
I follow him past the inner doors and through the mazelike hallways of the MRF, past the CCTV room and toward a door in the back I’ve never seen before. Barnes scans us through, and I stop as soon as we pass the threshold, staring.
The room is small, boxy, dimly lit. The walls are lined with shelves, and the shelves are lined with weapons.
Mostly weapons, anyway. There are guns and ammunition and tasers and riot shields. But alongside them rest boxes of table salt, clear jugs labeled ‘holy water,’ and crucifixes. Plus a wide array of knives, some designated as pure silver, and others as iron. And…
“Is that a flamethrower?” I ask.
“Yes,” Barnes says, stopping alongside the gun rack. “And yes, we’ve had to use it. Don’t ask.”
I don’t. Mostly because I have more pressing issues on my mind. “Why are we here, Barnes?”
He turns to me, offering a sleek black pistol. It’s a semi-automatic, 9mm, similar to my personal handgun at home. My uniform already has a belt with a holster, and the weapon slides neatly into place. Its weight at my hip is familiar, but it is never a responsibility I take lightly.
“I’m considering your probationary period over,” he says. “You’re cleared to carry a gun on the premises now, and you’ll have key card access to the armory for emergencies.”
It should feel like a win. And it does, but…
“What about X-16?” I ask.
My thoughts keep circling back to him. For a moment, I feel a pang of dissonance. Surely, if my goal is to be a useful employee, I should be satisfied with this progress for now.
But I’m not. A conundrum to work through later.
Barnes’s face is inscrutable. He shuts the gun locker and leans against it, studying me.
“Director Wright and I have discussed, and… We can’t know you’re entirely immune until X-16 has another episode.
” My heart sinks, shoulders slumping. “But,” he continues, and I stand up straighter.
“As of now, you do seem to have the highest resistance to his side effects among the members of the security team. So I’ll be asking you to take point on activities relevant to his care.
I’m going to give you key card access to his cell, but it’s for emergency use only.
I don’t want you going in there without my approval, understood? ”
I suppress a tiny smile. There’s the satisfaction I’ve been waiting for, a warm rush of triumph sparking in my chest. “Understood. So what’s next for him?”
“Nothing, for now. We’ve done our usual follow-up protocol regarding his episode, so as long as he seems calm and stable, it’s business as usual until he shows signs of another.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I know it isn’t really my place to question things, but that feels wrong to me, just sitting around and waiting for things to get worse. “Isn’t there anything we can do to prevent another episode?”
“Other than making sure he’s as comfortable as possible? Not that we know of.” Barnes shrugs. He heads for the door, and I follow, frowning at his broad back. It’s clear he isn’t happy with this, either, but he seems resigned to the idea.
“Well… What do we know about him?”
“You read the file, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. It says a lot about his episodes, but it doesn’t really say why they’re happening, or what he is.”
“Hard to put a label on him, the same as most of the subjects here.” He stops in the hallway outside of the armory, sipping his coffee again.
“I mean, I get that, but he’s…” I gesture vaguely. “He looks so human. He looked even more human when he first showed up here.” I can’t get that photograph in his file out of my head. That young man with the sad brown eyes.
“I know what you mean. He’s one of our oddest cases. Only one who showed up asking us to take him in, too.” Barnes’s brow furrows. “Begging, really. Told us to lock him up and keep him there no matter what.”
That’s right. I had almost forgotten that his file lists him as a voluntary commitment.
“And you still don’t know anything about where he came from?” I ask. “Or what he was doing before?”
“We don’t even know his name,” Barnes says.
“He won’t tell us anything. Honestly, before you showed up, it was hard to get even a few words out of him.
He would just sit in his cell all day, silent.
Sometimes he’d ask for books or music, but that was it.
He seemed content to just…be alone. And that was before his episodes started getting so frequent and severe.
It seemed he wanted to isolate himself as much as possible. ”
The mental image of him sitting in that cell all day, with nobody to talk to, makes my chest ache. “Seems lonely.”
“I get the impression he was lonely long before he showed up here,” Hunter says.
“That’s just a guess, though. He doesn’t talk about his past. If you want to try to get more information out of him, you’re welcome to do so during downtime on your shifts.
You’re the only one who can be in his presence for long, and it could help to add more to his file.
But—” He holds up a finger, doubtlessly noticing my enthusiasm.
“That’s not an excuse to slack on the rest of the job.
Now that your probationary period is finished, I’m going to be asking you to be more hands-on with the subjects.
” His expression clouds. “Especially with Vince gone, and Ellis still recovering, we’re gonna need you, Willow.
” His eyes lock on me, expression growing more serious. “I need people I can trust.”
Guilt gnaws at me. I never came clean about my past, but at this point, what good would it do to tell him how much I’ve been hiding? Surely none of it is relevant, anyway.
“You can count on me,” I promise.
Shortly after my conversation with Barnes, I’m called out to the perimeter due to a civilian wandering close to the walls.
It turns out to be the man I’ve spotted downtown a couple of times, the one with a tangled beard and doomsday sign.
There’s nothing to do but warn him off and keep an eye on him, but he doesn’t try anything or even say much; he just stands there, staring at me through the fence with hollow eyes, his sign in his hands.
The letters have become more and more smudged, but I still remember the words.
And I will shew wonders in the heavens and in the earth, blood, and fire, and pillars of smoke…
The new weight of the gun at my hip is a comfort, but I don’t reach for it.
The man’s stare is unnerving, but he doesn’t try to get any closer, and eventually I’m called back into the main building to help relocate Subject X-17 while his room is being cleaned.
I’m all too aware of X-16’s room just next door.
I’m itching to talk to him, but today’s been busy.
The gigantic wolfman is unconscious by the time I arrive, but I startle at the sight of Ellis waiting.
The last time I saw him, he was getting hauled off to the hospital from banging his head against the wall during X-16’s episode.
He’s still got a black eye along with a significant number of fading bruises and swelling, but that doesn’t stop him from shooting me his usual smile.
I return it, for once, and he positively beams.
“You look like shit,” I say.
“Aw, thanks, Willow. Hope you didn’t miss me too much,” he says, with a wink that makes me roll my eyes.
“I thought you said he was still recovering,” I say to Barnes.
“He is. Fresh from medical leave, and we’re keeping him in the CCTV room for the most part, but I needed some extra hands for this. Come on, let’s get it done.”