Twenty-Six
Subject 763
“Give me updates,” someone says at my back. They sound far away. Maybe I’m far away.
Another voice answers, “We’ve had four deaths. Most of the subjects are showing progress, however the creatures are becoming unruly.” One of them grunts, and I listen to their feet carry them to the edge of my cell.
“What about this one?” I can’t see their faces. My back is to them, too busy counting the cracks in the wall for the hundredth time to care.
“Behavior has improved, no signs of aggression in the last forty-eight hours. It’s been a lot of this. Like it’s stagnant.”
“Have you introduced it to a reject?”
“I didn’t know it was ready for initiation,” the squeaky one admits. They continue, yammering on about the symptoms I’ve exhibited, what changes I’ve been going through.
I’ve lost all sense of time. They said it’s been two days, but it feels like an eternity and nothing at the same time.
The faint click of the lock unlatching piques my interest, but I don’t make any moves to get up. Instead, I stay sitting and unmoving, allowing them to haul me up by my arms and letting my feet drag while I finish counting the cracks in the cement.
Dirt and dust push into my mouth when they throw me headfirst into the pen. It takes me a minute to get my footing, my fatigued muscles weak from the inactivity. Coughing, I wince at the pain in my chest while the sun beats down on me. My eyes squint, looking around and noticing the dome structure I’ve been placed in. Stone blocks make up the base, but chain-link fencing makes up the rest, going up and up, like cascading imprisonment.
There are rows and rows of seats, but only four are occupied. I don’t recognize their faces from this far away. The sunlight doesn’t help either. My retinas are yelling at me to shut my eyes and give them blissful shade.
The sound of a door raising catches my attention. I look in the direction too fast, and my head swims. I rub my eyes to help the haziness go away, but I’m only greeted with dots of colors.
My first thought is to run toward the opening, fight my way out of here, and find solitude, but that would be foolish. They’re not giving me an escape route. They’re giving something entry.
My suspicions are confirmed when a low growl sounds from the open passageway. Languid, pounding steps follow until two bright-red eyes stare back at me.
It steps forward on all fours, its back hunched, and it wears a snarl on its face. Rows of razor-sharp teeth snap in my direction, but I can’t move. Locked into place by fear, I don’t make any moves toward it or away from it. The dust moves with each exhale it makes, causing it to stir in front of it.
“What the fuck is that?”