Chapter Five
The fluorescent lights flicker above me as I’m led into the stark white room, and a shiver runs down my spine. Three doctors in lab coats wait around a metal table, their mouths pinched in rehearsed smiles.
“Hello, Miss O’Connell. I’m Dr. Klein.” The tallest doctor extends his hand. His palms are cold and clammy. The other two introduce themselves, and their names go in one ear and out the other.
I force a tight smile. “What’s this all about?”
“Just a standard debriefing,” Dr. Klein assures me. “Please, have a seat.”
He waves into the stark room that’s larger than your standard exam room. Probably twice the size. There’s a countertop that runs down the left wall with upper and lower cabinets.
But there’s nowhere to sit except the exam bed, which looks like your standard narrow hospital bed.
A soldier wheels in a tray loaded with food, parking it next to me. My mouth waters as I inhale the scent of steak and mashed potatoes. I hesitate, trying to think back since I had a meal.
Has it been three days or four?
Dr. Klein gestures to the plate. “Go on. You must be famished.”
He isn’t kidding. I dig in, savoring the hot, savory flavors.
The doctors murmur to each other on my left, bringing in and setting up equipment around the room.
“Do we have them yet?” One of the shorter doctors asks quietly.
Dr. Klein shakes his head. “Not yet, but the search teams are closing in.”
I pause mid-bite. Them? The men who escaped after the rescue?
Like Ray?
What are the doctors planning?
I force myself to keep eating, trying to look oblivious while straining to hear more. But the doctors bustle around, plugging in equipment, and their focus turns to the strange machinery. Unease twists my gut, even as I polish off the last bites of my meal.
I set down my fork and lean back on the bed, feigning a relaxed posture despite the tension coiling inside me. The doctors are still engrossed in their equipment, ignoring me, so I let my eyes close.
The food feels heavy in my tummy, but the warmth spreads through my limbs, making me tired. The floor of the cell we were held in was metal and so cold…
Footsteps slow by my elbow, and I turn to see a doctor. He gestures toward a side door that looks like it might open to another exam room off this hall. “This way, ma’am. You can freshen up in the bathroom before we continue.” He pulls the door open as I swing my legs over the side of the bed to the floor. “It’s stocked with exam gowns and you can leave your fatigues to be cleaned.”
Yes!
I stand slowly, glancing between the doctors. How many times did Jamie, Shayla, and I wish we could clean up properly? Like a shower.
Rounding the bed, I move toward the bathroom, taking in the roll-in shower with a fold-down seat. In here, the light doesn’t flicker, and I feel exhaustion weighing down my eyelids.
The bathroom is small but spotless, with a mirror above the sink. I gap at my reflection, studying the knots in my unruly red hair and trying to ignore the dark circles under my eyes that look like bruises on my pale, freckled skin.
The shower is hot and perfect, and I’m sure I take way longer than I should. The doctors are probably waiting for me, but I don’t care. My movements are sluggish, and my mind skips from one thought to the next.
I feel drugged by fatigue by the time I get the fine comb through my hair. My arms ache as I take a deep breath and step out of the bathroom. Only one doctor is waiting and he gestures for me to come out. I expect to climb back into the bed, but instead, he directs me to a different seat.
My steps falter as I take in the equipment set up at the foot of the bed. It’s a large chair with straps and wires trailing from it. My heart pounds as I realize it’s some kind of simulation device. I’ve heard about them from other recruits. They’re supposed to be cutting-edge, but a lot of women have complained about headaches after using them.
“Have a seat, Miss O’Connell,” the doctor says in a bored tone.
I stand motionless, eyeing the chair with distrust. “What’s this for?”
He shrugs. “The doctors just want to run some tests, and make sure you’re adjusting okay after your ordeal.” His eyes are blank, giving nothing away.
Fuck.
“I’d rather not, thanks.” I cross my arms, feet planted.
The doctor’s expression hardens. He steps closer, and I watch his jaw tick. “It wasn’t actually a request. Now sit, or I’ll have to bring in help to put you in that chair... by force.”
I glare at him defiantly, but I’m outmatched here. Better to cooperate for now than be strapped down against my will. Keeping my movements slow, I approach the chair. The leather creaks as I lower into it, and the straps hang open like hungry jaws ready to snap shut.
I meet the doctor’s gaze, daring him to restrain me. He pauses, then reaches behind the chair, wheeling out a tray holding a large box with multicolored wires attached to it. “I just need to get these set up,” he explains, reaching for my arm and attaching a round sticky sensor to my wrist.
As he proceeds to attach more of the little devices onto my skin, the fight drains from my body. I slump in the chair, and the clinical flickering lights above seem to press down on me.
The door swings open and the other two doctors in white coats enter, pushing a cart laden with strange equipment. My pulse spikes at the sight of wires, tubes, and blinking monitors.
Fuck me.
“Hello, Summer. I trust you’re feeling more refreshed.” Dr. Klein waves to the older man I don’t recognize. “This is Dr. Kowalski.” His tone is pleasant, but his eyes are cold and clinical. “We’re just going to run some tests, check your vitals, that sort of thing.”
Dr. Kowalski readies a syringe, tapping the hollow needle. “First, we’ll need to draw some blood, and get a baseline reading on you.”
I shrink back against the chair as he approaches. “What do you need my blood for? I had a full exam right before—”
“Standard procedure after these types of events,” Dr. Klein replies smoothly. Too smoothly.
Plus… does that mean this “type of event” happens regularly?
Dr. Kowalski takes my arm in a firm grip. I wince as the needle pierces my skin, the vial slowly filling with crimson before I look away, squeezing my eyes shut.
“There now, that wasn’t so bad.” Dr. Klein pats my shoulder. I fight the urge to flinch away. “Just a few more tests and we’ll have you on your way.”
My unease deepens, but I stay silent as they attach sensors to my temples and chest. I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing my fear. I’ll endure whatever they throw at me. But I’ll be watching too.
I try not to flinch as the last sensor is put in place. This chair, the wires, it’s all too much.
Dr. Klein steps back, surveying their work. “Excellent. We’re just about ready to begin.”
Dr. Kowalski leans over a monitor, entering commands. The screen flickers to life, showing a cozy office. A leather couch, diplomas on the wall. My heart sinks. It’s a shrink’s office. They’re going to try to manipulate my mind. Dredge up old memories.
I glare at the doctors. “I don’t need a psychologist. I’m not crazy.”
Dr. Klein raises his hands, leaning over me. “No one said you were. This is simply to help you relax and help you remember more.”
Sure. More relaxed so they could poke and prod, picking at my feelings and memories. Sugar-coated brainwashing, he means.
I clench my jaw, steadying myself. I can’t stop whatever they have planned, but I don’t have to play along. Stay alert. Question everything they say, and every image they show me.
As the program starts, I ignore them as they lower an entire helmet contraption over my head. Inside, I can see the projection of what was on the screen. The formal doctor’s office.
I squeeze my eyes shut. No matter what comes, they won’t break me.
I’ll emerge from this, still in control. Still me.
Bright flashes of light suddenly pierce through my closed eyes, causing me to wince in discomfort. I brace myself, knowing this tactic all too well. They’re trying to disorient me, make me more pliable. But each burst only fortifies my resolve.
I will not succumb.
“Just relax, Summer,” a female voice soothes. “Let the memories come forward.”
Memories of what? I push back against the hypnotic prompts swirling around me. They want to dredge up my past abductions and expose my deepest vulnerabilities. Fuck with me.
I can’t let that happen.
My hands curl into fists. How dare they put me through this again!
I already lived through those traumatic events once. No, twice! Now I’m being dragged back, forced to relive the terror and helplessness.
“Deep breaths.” Dr. Kowalski”s muffled voice seeps through the helmet. “You’re safe here.”
Safe?
I want to laugh. Or maybe scream. There’s no safety here. No trust. They don’t care about my well-being, only whatever secrets they can extract.
But I won’t break. I’ll fight them with everything I have. They can assault me with lights and sounds and suggestions, but my mind is my own. My memories stay locked away, shielded from their manipulations.
I just have to endure a little longer...
The pulses of light intensify, flashing against my closed eyelids like bolts of lightning. I feel my consciousness slipping as the simulated reality takes hold.
No, I can’t let them in! I try desperately to cling to awareness, but it’s like grasping at smoke. My thoughts grow murky and disjointed. I’m adrift in an endless void, no longer certain what’s real as the female doctor behind the desk begins to question me.
Breathe, just breathe! I repeat it like a mantra, struggling to clear the fog from my mind. But the doctor’s voice echoes all around me.
“Let go, Summer. I just want to talk. Embrace the process.”
I want to scream in frustration. This is my mind, my sanctuary.
I won’t surrender it!
But what choice do I have? Exhaustion weighs down my limbs like lead. How much longer can I resist?
My thoughts dissolve into static, consciousness fading away. But that tiny flame still flickers inside my head.
Hope is the last thing to die.