Chapter 23
Lights. Bright white. Artificial.
My mouth full of cotton, head pounding, it felt like I’d been hit by a truck.
There were people shouting. No… someone was singing, loudly, while others talked in fast hushed tones.
Time warping, the words skipped, jumped, and circled as I drifted in and out of consciousness.
It was quieter now.
There was still singing, but lower, at a whisper. Beeping. The hum of machinery. The buzz of a light.
Wherever I was, it wasn’t good.
The world still materializing around me, I made to move, but everything stayed in place. I tried again. And again.
“Whoa, whoa there.” A blurry heavy-set bearded man peered over me. “Don’t hurt yourself, take it easy.”
Like hell was I going to take it easy. I tried even harder.
“The feeling is going to register in your limbs in a second and you’re going to understand why you shouldn’t be doing that.”
I—damn it, he was right.
My wrists and ankles hurt. It took monumental effort to lift my head. Everything was out of focus. But even with blurry eyes, I knew what I was looking at was bad news.
My limbs were cuffed to a cold metal table. My torso covered by a shapeless blue hospital gown. And from what I could tell it was just the hospital gown. Nothing underneath.
The obnoxious off-key singing continued, raising in volume.
“What day of your cycle are you on, love?”
“What—” my throat hurt. My mouth mealy, dry, and I was thirsty so so thirsty.
“How many days since you last bled?”
I know I didn’t hear him right. The last person who’s asked me about this was Almeida One…
“She up?” Another voice, a woman, asked. Deep and raspy, she spoke from somewhere behind me, out of view.
“Yes, just getting acquainted with her cycle.” The man had a well-maintained beard that met his sternum. “Weren’t we, love?”
“I don’t see why you bother asking,” the woman snapped. “It’s a numbers game, just see what sticks.”
“You agreed to try things my way.”
Whatever I’d been injected with was still in my system, everything about me was slow and sluggish. But I knew people arguing over me while I was strapped to a table didn’t bode well, I knew I needed to sober up and quickly if I was going to be of any use to myself.
And I had no recollection of how I ended up… wherever I was.
Squeezing my eyes shut as the man and woman continued their bickering, I tried to remember. All I could recall, was that I was taken against my will. Outside FBI headquarters. In the broad light of day. By people asking deeply personal questions about my reproductive health.
And I could see their faces. At least one of them, for now.
Captors only revealed their faces to people they never had the intention of letting go.
Shit. Shit. I pulled at my restraints. The table clicking and clanging as I bucked and heaved.
“Shhh, shhhh, it’s okay.” The bearded man patted the hair on my head like he was soothing a scared animal. “It’s okay, love.”
“Just up her meds, she looks like a fighter.”
“She’s just disoriented, aren’t you?” The man continued to stroke the top of my head, then gave a gentle caress over my cheek. I had enough sense to turn my head away, but it didn’t accomplish much.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Shuffling footsteps rounded the table, as the woman came into view next to the bearded man, glaring down at me. “She’s not much to look at, is she?”
A curl of bile ate at my insides. Everything about the woman was both severe and plain.
Her mousy brown hair pulled into a tight bun accentuated her pointed chin and hawk-like nose.
There were no wrinkles around her eyes, or joy lit from within—like a dark hole resided where any kindness should have taken root.
The dreadful singing continued, louder, more cacophonous, repeating something about numbers. Choosing them. It was all far too loud and far too much.
I needed out.
Since I’d learned of my passenger, I’d felt the overwhelming need to run, to escape, to get some distance between myself and the world around me.
But now I was pinned in place with nowhere to go.
There was no escaping me, my situation, or the strangers in the strange white room where all I could do was move my head.
Even though it was futile, I pulled at my restraints with renewed vigor. My hands and feet weren’t of use to me if I was dead. I needed out, even if I was missing a few parts.
Out. Out. Out.
Click, click, click.
“Madame.” The man’s terse tone caught my attention, as the woman released her hold on a long plastic tube, which, when I followed the line, found connected to my arm.
I was hooked up to medical equipment, an IV, a heart monitor.
And the woman had just adjusted the roller clamp upping the dosage ported directly into my arm. What the hell had I gotten myself into?
“She is going to hurt herself, Warden.”
The world wobbled, went blurry, slow. I was losing consciousness, again. This wasn’t a fight I was going to win. Feeling the world drift further and further away, I knew I wanted escape, but not like this, with no guarantees I’d be allowed to wake up.
As I sunk deeper, eyes closed, breath slowing, I’d finally made sense of the words being sung.
“Three, Three, wonderful, Three. You’re everything we ever expected you to be.”
?
The arguing continued. So did the singing. I caught snippets, but the words lapsed over me in no distinct voice, all of it blending together.
“Did you want what happened to one to—”
“One came first, by a minute or two. But she is a number, both tried and true.”
“What we did before didn’t work. I need you to trust me.”
“Three is devout and caring and smart. She’ll fill the role, with kindness, with heart.”
“Their roles are pre-written. There can be only one.”
“Two is the longshot.”
“No, absolutely not.”
“As close to a sure thing as there can be, three is the choice for you and for me!”
“Mads was a fool! He broke the rules!”
“Sacrifice must be made by those they love most. Life to create life, for key to become host.”
Host. Host. Host. Host. Host. Host—
?
“Ah, there you are, my love.” The bearded man’s face, and his muddy brown eyes, were far too close to mine. “I apologize but Madame was quite concerned for your wellbeing. You won’t hurt yourself now, will you?”
Not wanting the threat of being put under again, I shook my head.
“Good.” Running his hand over my hair, in that strange affectionate way, he stood. “It pained me to see you struggle, but we couldn’t risk you hurting yourself.”
“Where. Am. I?” Each word grated against my throat.
“Precisely where you need to be.”
“Home!” A childish voice chimed.
The man turned over his shoulder, I couldn’t see much from where I was laying, but I could make out metal bars bolted to an exposed cement beam. Floor-to-ceiling, if I had to guess. They were holding someone else down here captive with me. “Hush Three, we don’t want to startle her.”
“But she’s my—”
“Yes, Three, but I need you to be patient. She’s only just waking up.”
There was a scuffling of bare feet against floor and a humph, a thump, and a soft thud.
“Are you sulking?”
“No.” The child huffed, then said, “Maybe.”
“It’ll just be a few more minutes, you know how this works, then you can play. Why don’t you turn on your TV?”
The bearded man kept his gaze over his shoulder until there was a boiiiinnngg, followed by the tinkering of cartoon tiptoeing.
“A little overexcited, but she means well.” The bearded man had a look I’d seen proud parents use—both exasperated and content. But I was concerned with a bigger threat.
“Where’s the woman?”
“Madame is gone for now.” The pounding in my head throbbed to the beat of my pulse, as he said, “I’m being given only once chance to do this my way, so it is better for us both if you cooperate.”
“With what?”
“Answer my questions, and trust that I have your best interests at heart.”
“I was kidnapped, drugged, and strapped to a table,” my words were flowing easier now, “in nothing but a hospital gown, I have no idea who you are, and you want me to trust you?”
“Not kidnapped. Rescued,” the child interrupted. “You were taken—"
“Three.”
“…Sorry.”
“What do you say?” Ignoring the metal clasp at my wrist, the bearded man squeezed my fingers. “Can we do this the easy way? Because whether you like it or not, love, decisions have already been made.”
I rattled my limbs against their restraints. “Doesn’t sound like I’m being given much of a choice.”
“You are only able to choose your path, and how much you resist. The rest is up to fate.”
Fate. Funny. This didn’t feel like fate. It felt like manipulation. That I was being forced into a situation against my will, like so much of my life that came before. I was playing a role.
My pulse quickened, the monitoring equipment beeped in response. While I was drifting in and out of consciousness, I’d heard the name Mads. And if I heard the name Mads—
The beeping intensified, and the bearded man rounded to the monitor, took a look at my vitals and tutted. “You’re frightened. I need you to breathe. Take a deep breath for me.”
“Why am I here?”
“I’ll answer your questions if you just calm yourself. Please just take a deep breath. In through your nose—”
“I know how it works!”
“If I can’t get you relaxed, Madame will override my wishes. And you look like someone who prefers to stay awake.” He was right. “So, take a nice deep breath for me, please.”
Out of spite, I sucked in air as deep as I could.
“Good, good. Now out.” He kept his attention on my heartrate, as the beeping slowed. “Good. One more time. In…now, yes, that’s it, very good.”
Through measured words, I bit out, “Who are you? Why. Am. I. Here?”
“Warden White.” The man, though only ten-or-so years older, looked upon me as if I were his own child. “And it is my duty and pleasure to assist you in fulfilling your role, as key.”