Project Butterfly

Chapter 5

        Kwan’s world came into focus again, his eyes widened as far as they would go. The burning agony prevented them from opening them fully. Sores bubbled to the surface of his skin.

        Now back in his cell, the guards must have thrown him in while unconscious. Kwan crept his arms up to his head to massage his temples. His skull throbbed like a second heartbeat so powerful his cranium threatened to cave with every pulse. Eventually, he gathered enough energy to pull himself up into a sitting position. His muscles ached, imitating the pain endured after miles of running.

        Kwan’s breathing was shallow. He strained his eyes open a little further and regarded his small, damp dwelling. A bulb hung above the ceiling which poorly lit his cell. Unsteadily on his feet Kwan walked to his sink and lifted his head to the tap. Water steadily gushed, filling Kwan’s mouth. He gulped down mouthful after mouthful until he was too bloated to drink anymore.

                He put his hands under the tap and threw the cool water over his heated face and body. Kwan knew to be grateful for his access to water, not all prisoners received the same luxury. A sink had been fitted in his cell only a few months ago which he was sure had something to do with the new experiment they were conducting, the Kanzius machine. They’d installed the sink around the same time they had started bullying Kwan into that torturous contraption.

        He didn’t trust the people who controlled this place. They could put anything in the water systems, he’d be naïve to think otherwise with all the other experiments they carried out here. Kwan had learnt quickly if he didn’t drink from that tap then he didn’t drink at all.

        Stumbling with caution back to his make-shift camp bed the thin metal frame released a low screech as Kwan placed his body weight on it, creaking from every movement. Gently, he propped himself up against the wall, still suffering tremendous pain that vibrated through his whole body.

        His heart raced as his head pulsated, his lips breaking into blisters. A hammering pain from the Kanzius machine was a common symptom but never this intense. Breaking out into a fever, the sweat clung to his body but his stomach expelled thick bile. He had no doubt in this mind that he was suffering from radiation toxicity and if so the sweet release of death was near. Sick bastards.

        They had put him through enough over the years, the chips, the torment and the experiments. The gravity of his growing capabilities aroused his thoughts. Maybe they now obtained the results they wanted, his feelings of their intentions gathered strength. How long until he was deemed expendable? Surely this fate was inevitable? Eventually, he would simply be a loose end destined to be amputated.

        If a person was condemned to Camp 22, no-one missed them. Those who once loved them wouldn’t know if they were dead or alive. Camp 22 held no secrets when boasting one of the highest death rates of inmates in North Korea, maybe even the world. Kwan was relieved his life would soon be over. No human should sustain this existence.

        Committing suicide was against Kwan’s morals. Even if he did contemplate the thought, the cells were heavily watched with cameras. Prisoners weren’t allowed to get off that easily.

        Kwan smiled at the idea that death was near. No more pain. No more suffering. His only regret was he couldn’t avenge his anguish by massacring all those who worked here. For years he’d schemed plans to place justice into his own hands and break free.

        They had made his mind stronger, evolved, but they also had complete control over him. Camp 22 had strict totalitarian regulations, escaping seemed impossible.