Beyond the Horizon

29. Monologue

Nothing quite felt real. The world around Nezumi was a dim, gray haze, only thin crescents of sensation bleeding in at odd intervals. During the few moments when clarity returned to him, Nezumi tried to open his eyes. It proved too difficult, so he let his heavy eyelids flutter closed. Where he went or where he ended up didn't matter because he had no exit strategy.

          He had no idea about the layout of Horizon Labs. All he had were a few memories of his bare feet striking the frigid tile floors, the long walk from his prison cell to the room where Inukashi had attacked him. He knew he was being stored inside an area called Section M, but those bits and pieces didn't add up to a full puzzle.

          The aching memory of the buzz baton jamming into his ribs made Nezumi's thoughts muddled and sluggish. He couldn't focus on anything around him. The few voices that drifted around him sounded hostile, but their words were meaningless.

          At one point Nezumi thought someone might have grabbed him by the arm and hauled him off the ground, tossing him onto something solid and cold. A dog growled in the distance, being led away by a woman barking out commands.

          When at last sensation returned to him, Nezumi woke up strapped to a metal table. It was an effort to peel his eyelids open. Blinding white lights shone from the ceiling above him. His eyes burned, and he clenched them shut as nausea rolled through him.

          Nezumi jerked his wrists instinctively, his heart spasming when he realized he was securely fastened to the table. Thick leather bands wound his chest, his wrists, his ankles, pinning him painfully to the cold steel. It seeped through the thin material of his jumpsuit. Cold aches formed on his forearms and shivered down his back.

          Nezumi struggled to open his eyes again. His vision bled in and out of focus, fuzzy from the buzz baton plunging into his ribs. Rashi hadn't been kidding when he said it packed a punch. Nezumi felt like he'd been hit by a truck, backed over, and then hit a second time.

          Voices swam around him, and after a dim moment, Nezumi recognized one of them. Rashi. Disgust clenched in his stomach. The commanding officer of Section M seemed to linger nearby every single time Nezumi's world came back into focus. Like a fat leech, Rashi persistently clung to Nezumi and drained him of his strength.

          Another voice responded to something Rashi was saying. From the sounds of it, the owner of the voice was standing near the foot of the bed, facing away from Nezumi. He sounded strangely familiar, though Nezumi couldn't place where he'd heard his voice. Just some other person who'd hovered around him the day he arrived at Horizon Labs.

          Nezumi's eyes adjusted quickly to the brightness. He lifted his head slightly and quickly surveyed the new location. He was in a small white room, painted concrete walls on three sides and a large panel of silver glass stretching out in front of him. Nezumi could see the reflection of the lights in the glass, and it only took a moment to recognize that it was a mirror and not a window.

          Standing at the foot of the bed was a tall man. He faced away from Nezumi, reading through a thin manila folder clutched in his blue-gloved hands. In the reflection of the glass, Nezumi could barely make out his appearance. It was difficult to pinpoint his age. Definitely much older than Nezumi, but with a youthful sort of excitement on his features. Nezumi couldn't see his eyes behind the thick pair of black spectacles he wore, and his dark hair fell in glossy tangles around his chin.

          He wore a long white lab coat, and it seemed to be the most distinguishing feature about him. So jarringly different from Rashi's pitch black uniform jacket or the riot gear the guards dressed themselves in. A doctor, then. Nezumi had seen them plenty of times on posters and in magazines, but rarely in person.