cinder || dnf

chapter ten

Dream started when the mystery voice filled the room again, demanding another blood sample from the sacrificial lamb. He glared at the mirror, ignoring the med-droid as it prepared a new needle with robotic efficiency.

He fought down a gulp, moistening his throat. "How long before I get the pretend antidote?"

He waited, but there was no answer. The android clipped its metal claws around his arm. He flinched at the cold, then again as the needle poked into his sore elbow.

The bruise would last for days.

Then he remembered that tomorrow he would be dead. Or dying.

Like Drista.

His stomach twisted. Maybe Adri was right. Maybe it was for the best.

A shudder wracked his body. His metal leg clanked hard against his restraints.

Maybe not, though. Maybe the antidote would work.

He filled his lungs with the cool, sterile air of the lab and watched as the holograph on the wall mimicked him. Two green dots lingered down his right leg.

The med-droid pulled out the needle and used a cotton ball to stopper the wound. The vial filled with his blood was set into a metal box attached to the wall.

Dream thumped his head against the lab table. "I asked you a question. Antidote? Any day now? You are going to at least try to save my life, right?"

"Med," said a new voice, a female. Dream snapped his head around to look at himself in the mirror again. "Disconnect the patient from the monitoring machines and escort him into lab room 4D."

Dream dug his fingernails into the tissue paper beneath him. Lab room 4D. Is that where they sent you so they could watch you die?

The android snapped shut his head panel and removed the nodes from his chest. The heart rate machine flatlined.

"Hello?" said Dream. "Could you tell me what's going on?"

No answer. A green light flickered beside the android's sensor, and the door opened into a white tiled hallway. The med-droid wheeled Dream's exam table out of the lab, past the mirror. The corridor was empty and smelled of bleach, and one of the table's wheels squeaked in time with the android's treads.

Dream craned his head but was unable to meet the med-droid's sensor. "I think I have some oil in my calf if you'd like me to fix that wheel."

The android remained silent.

Dream pressed his lips. Numbered white doors slid past them. "What's in lab room 4D?"

Silence.

Dream drummed his fingers, listening to the crinkle of tissue paper and the wheel that was sure to give him a twitch. He caught the sound of voices somewhere far away, down another corridor, and half expected to hear screams coming from behind the closed doors. Then one of the doors opened, and the android pushed him past a black 4D. The room was almost an exact duplicate of the other but without the observation mirror.

Dream was wheeled alongside another exam table, upon which sat a familiar pair of boots and gloves. Then, to Dream's surprise, his shackles released with a simultaneous whistle of air.

He jerked his hands out of the opened metal rings before the android could realize it made a mistake and bind him again, but the android showed no reaction as it retreated to the hall without comment. The door clanked shut behind it.

Shivering, Dream sat up and searched the room for hidden cameras, but nothing struck him as obvious. A counter along one wall held the same heart-rate machines and radio detectors as the other had. One netscreen to his right sat blank. The door. Two exam tables. And him.

He swung his legs over the side and snatched up his gloves and boots. While lacing up his left boot, he remembered the tools he'd stashed in his leg before leaving the junkyard, what seemed like eons ago. He unlatched the compartment and was relieved to find it hadn't been raided. With a steadying breath, he grabbed the largest, heaviest tool he had- a wrench- before closing the compartment and tying off his boot.

With his synthetic limbs covered and a weapon in hand, he felt better. Still tense, but not as vulnerable as before.

More confused than ever.

Why give his stuff back if they were going to kill him? Why take him to a new lab?

He rubbed the cool wrench against the bruise on the eye of his elbow. It almost looked like a spot from the plague. He pressed on it with his thumb, glad to feel the dull pain that proved it wasn't.

Again he scanned the room for a camera, half expecting a small army of med-droids to stampede the room before he could destroy all the lab equipment, but no one came. The hallways outside betrayed no footsteps.

Sliding off the exam table, Dream went to the door and tested the handle. Locked. An ID scanner was inserted into the frame, but it stayed red when he flashed his wrist before it, so it must have been coded to select personnel.

He went to the cabinets and fiddled with the row of drawers, but none opened.

Tapping the wrench against his thigh, he turned on the netscreen. It blazed to life, a holograph image jumping out at him. It was him again, his medical diagram spliced in half.

He swiped the wrench through the holograph's abdomen. It flickered, then returned to normal.

Behind him, the door whooshed open.

Dream spun, tucking the wrench against his side.

An older man in a striped bucket hat stood before him, holding a portscreen in his left hand and two blood-filled vials in the other. He was shorter than Dream. A white lab coat hung from his shoulders as it would a model skeleton. Lines drawn into his face suggested he had spent many years thinking very hard over very difficult problems. But his eyes were bluer than the sky and, at that moment, they were smiling.

The door shut behind him.

"Hello, Mr. Almeida."

His fingers tightened on the wrench. The strange accent. The disembodied voice.

"I am Dr. Phil Za, the leading scientist of the royal letumosis research team."

Dream forced his shoulders to relax. "Shouldn't you be wearing a face mask?"

His eyebrows lifted. "Whatever for? Are you sick?"

Dream clenched his teeth and pressed the wrench into his thigh.

"Why don't you sit down? I have some important things to discuss with you."

"Oh, now you want to talk," he said, inching towards him. "I was under the impression you didn't care too much about the opinions of your guinea pigs."

"You are a bit different than our usual volunteers."

Dream eyed him, the metal tool warming in his palm. "Maybe that's because I didn't volunteer."

In a fluid motion, he raised his arm. Targeted his temple. Envisioned him crumpling to the floor.

But he froze, his vision blurring. His heart rate slowed, the spike of adrenaline gone before his retina display could warn him about it.

Thought came to him, sharp and clear amid the syrupy confusion of his brain. He was a simple old man. A frail, helpless old man. With the sweetest, most innocent blue eyes he'd ever seen. He did not want to hurt him.

His arm trembled.

The little orange light clicked on and he dropped the wrench in surprise. It clattered to the tile floor, but he was too dazed to worry about it.

He hadn't said anything. How could he be lying?

The doctor didn't even flinch. His eyes beamed, pleased with Dream's reaction. "Please," he said, fanning his fingers toward the exam table. "Won't you sit?"

~~~

1295 words
2/23/22