Crawlers

11:42pm

Jasmine returned to consciousness in darkness, but the first thing she noticed was that she was standing up. 

OK, she thought, that's kind of odd. 

Her eyes felt dry, so she blinked - or rather her brain sent the message to her eyelids, but nothing happened. The same thing occurred when she tried to lift her hands to rub her eyes: the hands remained at her sides without even so much as moving a finger. She tried to open her mouth - even to twitch her tongue: nothing. Jasmine was just standing there, like a mannequin waiting to be positioned. 

Her body was no longer her own. She began to panic. 

The lights flickered on overhead, revealing Lauren's face, just centimetres from hers. 

'Yes,' said Lauren - or rather what was controlling her. 'This is exactly why I never allow my subjects as much awareness as this. It's too distressing for them. But you, Jasmine, you're not like the others, are you?' 

They were in the toilets, but Jasmine didn't care about her surroundings. Inside, she was screaming. She was utterly helpless. She still had sensations - hunger, fatigue, a persistent itch at the sides and back of her neck - but her mind was only receiving these signals. She was incapable of sending anything back. Her body was a prison. Jasmine was locked inside her head, every bit as securely as if she'd been locked in a cage. 

'Are you as strong and clever as I'm hoping, Jasmine?' said Lauren's mouth. It smiled. 'This is where we find out. Let me explain...' 

Lauren turned, untucking and lifting the back of her grimy white school uniform shirt to expose the clinging creature that lay nestled at the base of her spine. 

With a mental spasm of revulsion, Jasmine realized why her neck itched so much. 

'That's right. My hand is upon you. So now you, like this one' - Lauren's hand gestured at herself - 'are almost completely under my control. Where it becomes interesting, of course, is the "almost".' 

Lauren's face loomed in Jasmine's vision. Lauren's eyes, and what looked out of them, stared into Jasmine's. 

'You are resisting,' the voice stated. 'I would expect no less from you. If you were like the others - if there was a part of you that wanted to give up - then I would not be so interested in you. You see, I've been watching you over the course of the evening. You have intrigued me, Jasmine.' 

The voice was deeper than Lauren's, slightly husky, with an easy, velvet musicality to it. But Jasmine was barely listening. Her mind battered against its limits like a prisoner hurling herself against the bars, screaming, crying, until she was dizzy with pain. Of course, it all happened in silence. Any outward sign of her struggle was impossible. 

Lauren's lips formed into a small pout. 'I do not ask for your surrender,' she said. 'All I ask, for now, is a truce.' She leaned forward until her lips were next to Jasmine's ear. 'Don't you want to know what's really happening here, and who is behind it all? Hmm?' 

Wrenching her mind back into focus, Jasmine tried to calm down. When Lauren's face came back into sight, she was smiling again. 

'That's better,' she said. 'Oh, that's much better.' Then: 'Let's go.' 

The overhead lights flicked off again, but Jasmine found that she was already turning. Her hand reached out, found the door handle easily in the pulsing dark, and pulled. 

Jasmine walked out - but Jasmine herself had nothing to do with any of it. She was aware of every movement: she was aware of the air around her and the way it moved across her skin. But the movements themselves did not come from her. She was being controlled. 

'There,' said the voice from behind her, 'you're becoming accustomed to it already. But... Oh. Yes, of course.' 

Jasmine had caught sight of Ben. 

A part of her had been hoping desperately that he might have escaped somehow - that he might still be free, hiding in the building somewhere, figuring out a way to rescue everyone. Instead he was standing at the bottom of the stairs, with a crawler clamped to his neck. He stood there with his back to her - ignoring her. His hands, by his sides, were clenched into fists. Jasmine felt a soft pang of despair. 

'I sent Samantha to join the battle upstairs,' said Lauren's mouth. 'I left Ben here on guard. Forget him. He can't help you; nobody can. Now let me show you why.' 

Then Jasmine was walking again. As she passed Ben she wanted to keep looking at him, but her head wouldn't turn. She and Lauren were going towards the door she'd noticed earlier - the one that said THE PIT. 

Lauren held it open for her, then followed her through.