9. Nine
The lower level of the house is sparsely decorated with mismatched chairs and a comfortable looking couch. Everything here is worn wood and has a lived-in quality to it whereas the facility was sterile and void of life. Nothing that couldn’t be bleached and scoured repeatedly. All cold metal and plastic. Everything there was for function, here it seems that, despite the lack of order, comfort is a priority. This is a place for living, not merely surviving.
Stop. You’re still surviving here. This is still a Tank.
I want to scan the space for possible escape routes, for something to defend myself with, but I am also acutely aware of the men surrounding me, their attention locked firmly on my movements. Each one of them projecting that they’re ready, waiting for me to try to escape.
Being monitored at the facility was so commonplace that it had stopped bothering me. It was so normal and impersonal that I hardly noticed it anymore. Not now. This is different.
This isn’t my Minders’ passive assumption that at some point I might get the sudden urge to try and escape. The level of attention these men are paying me tells me one thing and one thing only: they believe I have a shot of getting away from them. A small chance, maybe, but it’s still a chance. That’s all I need.
I follow their lead and sit in one of the mismatched chairs surrounding the kitchen table. The stark difference between the informality of meeting in such a place against the reality of this situation, the reality of my life, doesn’t escape me. I can’t help but bark out a laugh.
It’s unpracticed and wild and wheezing, hysterical and desperate, but it’s real. I’m not entirely sure where it is coming from, but the sheer ridiculousness of my entire life has culminated in me laughing in the faces of these men.
Tears blur my vision, but I can see the men looking to one another with clear uncertainty, probably assuming I’ve finally gone insane from the years stuck as John’s plaything. That whatever happened to me in the last Tank was all it took to fully throw me over the edge, past the point of no return. That the wolves shredding my body was what made me come undone at the seams.
Who knows?I snort, not even trying to smother my laughter. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’ve finally lost it, and I am back in the harsh clinical lighting of the facility and not in this house, wherever it is.
The thought sobers me and within the next few breaths I’ve managed to compose myself and wipe away the tears spilling down my cheeks.
The man in the middle, the one who I can assume is in charge right now, flexes his jaw. Evidently my outburst is testing his patience, and I’ve come up to the end of whatever grace I was being given.
“Are you done?” His deep voice rushes over me, the reprimand unspoken, but heard, nonetheless.
I only nod in response, waiting for the scolding I’m sure I’ll get for acting in any way that doesn’t perfectly fit into the expectations that John has set out.
He seems to relax at my apparent submission, settling back further into his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you know where you are?”
A stupid question. I’ve never really known where I was, but I’m not about to leave him without an answer, so with just a little bit of a smile I say, “I’m in a house, a kitchen more specifically. An elaborate Tank?”
The jaw flex is back, and I can see Mr. Pin-Me-Down look over at Mark, searching for some sort of confirmation. He’s met with a terse nod, with a hint of ‘I told you so’ floating around it.
“You’re in our base camp, not a Tank.” His eyes are challenging, daring me to do something. What it is though, I don’t know.
“I’m Dane, that’s Rayner-”
“Ray to you, Princess,” he cuts in, flashing a dimple I hadn’t noticed before.
“And you already know Tucker.” Dane doesn’t let the interruption stop him and he jerks his head towards the man I know as Mark. The man who, up until this point, had been the only one to show me decency. Who at least pretended that I wasn’t just some fucked up science experiment from the start.
“Mark,” I say cautiously, keeping my eyes locked on Dane.
“Tucker,” the man himself corrects and I finally look over to him. “I’m sorry about the name, but it was a necessary deception.”
The tightness of his speech mimics his rigid posture and reserved facial expression. He’s completely different from the too casual man I met in the examination room, and not just in name.
“How?” There are so many questions, but I can only manage the single word through my clenched teeth. How the hell was a fake name necessary? Why make me feel a brief hint of kindness before launching me into a brutal reminder of how cruel my world was? Why even bother?
“I wasn’t exactly in there legitimately.”
Through his controlled demeanor I can feel that he’s doing everything he can to project to me that he is someone that I should be able to trust. I want to laugh in his face, but I settle on a grimace. Trust him? Absolutely not.
“And why were you there, Tucker? Why lie about your name only to throw me to the literal wolves?” My arms are starting to go numb from the overwhelming emotions swirling within me.
He flinches at my accusation and it only aggravates me more.
That rage builds to something I haven’t experienced in a while, something I’d assumed John had trained out of me. The instinct to fight and fight and fight until someone, preferably Mark/Tucker, whatever his name is, is unconscious. I want John to come out so I can yell at him myself, and finally have that outburst that’s been building since the day they brought me into that manufactured hellscape.
“I was there so we could get you out. I didn’t want to send you in, but we had to be sure.”
“Be sure of what?” I snap, just short of seething. The sensation in my body telling me to swing or flee continues to grow. I clench my fists, my nails biting into my palms, the pain of it reminds me of the danger of my current situation.
Dane leans forward again, still studying me. “We needed to know that you were capable of what we heard you could do. You’re here, talking, breathing, and ready to pitch a fit, so it seems that you really are the deathless wonder we’ve heard about.”
There isn’t a hint of deception on any of their faces.
“What do you mean, ‘out’?” I’m as guarded as I can be, not wanting myself to feel that shining sliver of hope that’s so insistent on creeping into my mind today.
“I mean out. The mouse has escaped from its cage. You’re no longer property of Omni Biomedical. We’ve stolen you away.” Dane’s words are calm, his voice is even, as if he isn’t saying the words I’ve been so desperate to hear for so long.
That sliver inside of me cracks into a blinding, gaping chasm, despite everything I’m doing to keep it in check. The lightness in my limbs slams harshly into my head, and I worry that I’ll pass out. I’ve wanted nothing more in my miserable life than to be out. To be done. To save myself or to be rescued like in the fairytales my mom used to read to me when I was little.
“What does that mean?” I steel myself, holding all of my muscles tightly in place when I ask the question.
“It means you’re done, Princess. No more Tanks.” The light on Ray’s face is a faint echo of what I’m feeling, that blinding hope that I’m still trying to keep concealed, however poorly I’m doing it.
“So, I’m . . . free?” I’m hesitant to even speak the words; there’s too much power in them. Too much to be taken away from me.
“We didn’t say that.” Dane slices through that hopeful haze as surely as if he’s wielding a fresh scalpel.
The chasm begins to crumble in on itself, but I still refuse to show them anything. I won’t let them see how badly I need to be out, to be fully, completely free. Especially if this is some fucked up joke. I will never let John see how desperately I want this to be real.
“Then what?” I spit, barely keeping my tone even. “You stole me so you can do your own research?”
“No, but we do have a need for you and your abilities.”
“And now I’m your property I’m assuming?”
“Not unless you want to be.” Ray chimes in flashing his dimple again. Tucker shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose as if he’s fighting off a headache.
“No.” The word is out of my mouth, floating through the room before I have a chance to consider the consequences of refusal.
Everyone stills around the table, the tension in the air spiking between the four of us. Their eyes are all trained on me, watching to see what I do.
“No? What do you mean no?” Dane asks, that dare still firmly set on his features, the challenge in his hard eyes.
“No, I’m not doing anything for you,” I speak with as much authority as I can, trying to force this man to listen to me. Everything in me is fighting to get me to scan my surroundings, to plan my way out, but I can’t look away from Dane. I can’t let him see my need to run.
“Sorry to say it, but we’re not giving you a choice.”
“I want to leave.”
“And go where?” Dane hums, a hint of a smile ghosting over his lips. This must have been the pushback that he was waiting for, whatever moment of opportunity to show that he is in control. “Madeline Porter, orphaned at the age of nine. Sequestered from the world for sixteen years. No family. No skills.” He uncrosses his arms, his hard eyes boring into mine. “Nowhere to go.”
Sixteen years.
I lock up, and he takes the opportunity to lean in more closely, crowding my space even from across the table.
“You know what? I have an idea.” There’s a glimmer in his eyes that raises the hair on the back of my neck.
“Dane, stop, she’s good. Madeline will stay,” Mark, no, Tucker cuts in, his eyes bouncing between his boss and me.
“No, I’m serious. This will be great.”
Without breaking eye contact, he stands and gestures for me to follow him as he walks to the door. A door, I’m now realizing, that leads outside and might be my best shot out of here.
I don’t even spare a glance to the others while I follow this domineering man outside and get hit with a wave of cool and damp air.
The gentle touch of it on my skin is nearly enough to bring me to my knees. A breeze tugs at the tangled strands of my hair and I close my eyes for a second, forgetting the circumstances that brought me here. Forgetting everything except for the feeling of being outside. My nose prickles slightly with the tears that are threatening to form, and I pull myself out of that contented quiet.
I’m not free. But I might be close.
Huge old growth trees surround the house on every side, with only a single, narrow cut through them for a dirt road. Despite the quiet, it’s clear that the woods are bursting with life. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much green before, and I’m awestruck at the sight of it.
I spin on my heel, unable to stand still. The house is settled back in the clearing, looking like it might as well be the only structure in the whole damn world.
I turn back and am startled to find Dane standing close. Close enough I have to crane my neck slightly to look at him properly, and when I do, I see that he’s not even trying to hide his amusement.
He must think that my wide-eyed wonder is tangled up with fear and a sense of total isolation. He told me I had nowhere to go, no options, and no skills. He was right about all of that, but it didn’t make me feel fear. My entire life has been steeped in fear, and this forest, the unknown possibilities it presents, it’s nothing in comparison.
We may be remote, but we’re not surrounded by concrete blocks and cameras and linoleum. I’m not surrounded by those things. I’m here, and I feel like I’m a part of the world in a way that I haven’t felt in, apparently, over a decade. A world without anyone, but a world I can make mine if I can get away from these guys.
“I know you want to run.” His mocking tone doesn’t slow my racing thoughts, and it sure as hell doesn’t weaken my resolve.
I don’t dignify the obvious statement with an equally obvious lie, so I hold his stare. Meeting his challenge and throwing it back with every ounce of ire I have in me.
“Well, go ahead. I’ll even give you a head start. How does five minutes sound?”
He can’t mean that.
He can’t be giving me a shot to get out of here. A chance to get away, to be in control of my own life for the first time. I turn back and I see Ray and Tucker watching me closely from the house, waiting to see if I run. He must be serious.
Dane sees my apprehension. “This is the only time I’m going to offer this to you. Now go on, Bambi, run. Run through the woods and I will come after you. And when I catch you and haul you back here, you’ll understand there’s no way out. You’ll get your freedom, either by getting away now, or by earning it.”
No way out.
Those three words sink heavily into my stomach. No way out of this arrangement, just like there was no way out of John’s grasp. But that last bit also sounded a hell of a lot like a promise. A promise that I’ll be able to get exactly what I want if I just play along. If these guys are telling the truth, they found a way out for me, maybe this is my chance.
He leans down closely enough for me to pick out the gold in his brown eyes.
“Go.”
A whisper. A dare.
This time I don’t hesitate, and I bolt for the road.