When Songbirds Fly | Bellamy Blake

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Blood Must Have Blood

TW// Blood (pretty graphic), torture, death, tasers, drills

—

I don't wake up to the overly soft pillows and warm blankets that I've been accustomed to for the past eleven days. My head lolls forwards and my feet hang limply, not strong enough to support my weight. Shackles cut painfully into my wrists.

Opening my eyes, it takes me a moment to adjust to the darkness around me. Only a single light illuminates the room, just above a bloodstained operation table. Two surgeons stand over it, drilling into a body that is beaten and bloodied beyond recognition.

The shackles that line the walls aren't empty. There have to be at least three dozen of us chained up.

'Wren? Hey, you okay?'

Jumping at the whisper from next to me, I turn my head. 'Ezri? Oh my God,' I gasp, 'what is this? What's happening?'

Screams cut through the silence and she grimaces, her eyes filling with tears. 'It's gonna be okay, Birdie. Everything's gonna be okay.'

I'm at a loss for words. All I see is blood.

I scan the room for familiar faces. Monty, Harper, Miller, Raven, Wick... too many to possibly count in my distress. There's only one thing I do know: Bellamy isn't here.

The screams stop. The corpse is dragged away.

Turning in his own little circle, the surgeon's finger pauses on each of us like some kind of twisted version of eeny-meeny-miny-mo. He finally stops. My heart skips a beat.

The guards start to approach. I desperately try to kick out at them. My efforts fail quickly when a jolt of electricity makes my legs buckle. The sudden drop causes the shackles to dig even deeper into my wrists.

Others join in with my terrified shouts as my sister is removed from the wall and marched to the table.

'Ezri!' I screech, red trickling down my arms from the harsh tugs at my cuffs. 'No, no, no. Take me. Take me, please! Please, God, take me instead! Ezri! No, Ezri!'

She doesn't move as they strap her down. She just lies limp, her head turned towards me. A tear rolls down her cheek, a smile tugging at her weary face. 'So would I, Birdie.'

Her voice then rises in pitch as they start to drill into her hip, filling the small chamber with screams like I've never heard before in my life.

—

I don't know when her shrieks of agony morph into someone else's. All I know is that Ezri is no longer on the table. Instead, she lies in the corner with the other bodies, out of my sight.

The door creaks open and the new President Wallace enters. His eyes glide past me, like he doesn't notice me at all. He strides idly across the floor stained with blood and mould, coming to a stop next to a guard dressed all in black. 'We take any losses?'

'Not as many as they did, Sir. I'm afraid I'm the only one left who's been cured. Some of the kids are still missing. If you'd like, I'll take a team in hazmats and sweep the other levels.'

'No. No more wasted lives. In forty-eight hours, we'll be on the ground. Take off their hoods.'

Only now do I notice the three people kneeling before him. In turn, each of their hoods is removed.

My heart drops when I see that Monroe is the first. Miller gasps when he sees the second, 'Dad?'

'Nate!' The man tries to go towards him but is knocked down by a blow to the head.