S.M.A.R.T. (The Subject of Mind Altering Research and Testing)

Chapter Twenty-three

Between the plan Michael was writing, the testing, and trying to stay high with knowledge, his days were consumed. He wrote, and he read, and he wrote. He exercised a lot. He was bigger than he had ever been. There wasn't much else to do, and when he got back from tests with the pill still in him, he could control his own muscles healing rapidly.

The General had started send Gus and Keg to take Michael to his tests after the first week back. He would show up late to every test. Michael had a suspicion of what he was doing. The man seemed to be becoming more paranoid by the day. His drinking combined with the pill didn't seem to be having a great effect as a combination.

Michael would write, and leave his books right on his desk. Gus and Keg were too daft to think anything important would be in it. They probably thought Michael was drawing doodles about his day. Every time he came back from a test, he would read one book, and then write papers on it. Those, he wrote on blank sheets, to save space in his journal, which was now nearing full.

Michael started to say he was feeling off towards the end of nearly every test he took. He would go back with the extra time he had on it, and write his knowledge down better than ever. Michael started to be able to feel more and more of the effects of the pill when he wasn't on it. He was remembering languages, and formulas, and he could think much faster than he ever could before.

He was just getting out of the shower in the exercise room one day when he heard the knock. He went to the door of the showers and there was a man he didn't know standing right outside. He thought the man had some nerve, but he was used to not having any privacy.

"I've got some medicine you're supposed to take. Doctor Hall and Reid said to take the small one now, and the big one later tonight." The man said, and then hurried off.

Michael stared down at the bottle. It was covered in labels, and you couldn't see inside of it. He hoped that it was the information he had asked for. At the point Michael was at, it was the last step. He knew how he was going to get out of the exit doors, he just needed to know which one was the best one to pick.

He went back to his room, after drying off and getting dressed. He pulled out the bottle from his housecoat. How could anything I need fit inside such a small bottle. He pressed down the cap, and turned it until it clicked. He took the lid off, and looked inside. There was no map, no blueprint. Just two pills. He picked up the smaller one. He cracked it in half, but it was just a pill. He decided he would take it. If the doctors had sent it, it was probably just a placebo, or a pain killer.

He picked up the second pill, and cracked it in half too. A tiny piece of paper that was rolled up tightly fell out of it, amongst some dust. Clever. He unrolled the page, and looked down at the tiny message. Med Ward, 2am. Michael knew it couldn't have been a blueprint bottled up in there, but now he knew that he had what he needed. He could barely hold back his excitement.

Michael took Blanco out of his cage, who was now getting a little chubby. Michael liked to feed him. It was one of the only things he really could do for the little creature. He put his pet down on the bed, and laid down too. He would sleep, to pass the time. Blanco curled up inside his arms as he laid on his side, and dozed off.

Michael didn't dream of freedom, or his escape. He dreamed of himself, being the one running the facility. He was the General, and he had the power over everybody. Everybody feared him, and for some reason, in the dream, he liked it. He loved the control. He found himself walking through the halls of the facility towards his own rooms, but they weren't his rooms. They were the prisoner's cells. He punched in the password to the door, and went inside. It was Jim. Jim was the prisoner inside the cell, and Blanco wasn't there, but there were twenty other rats that were eating crumbs off of the floor when he went in. Jim was sitting on his bed, and when he came in he threw a book at the wall, and threw his covers over himself in fear, edging back to the corner of his bed, and whimpering like a scared animal. Michael wanted to tell him it was alright, but he didn't. In the dream, he grabbed Jim, and dragged him with one hand out of the cells, and into the courtyard. The people behind the glass weren't behind the glass. They were standing in a circle in the courtyard, and Michael led Jim into the middle of the circle, and joined the rest of the spectators. They were all writing, and studying Jim, who was now suddenly in nothing but soiled rags, and had lashes, and burns all over his body. The people in the crowd were all suddenly dressed in the tan uniform, and Michael found himself at the back of the room, raised high in a chair, and watching, and laughing. He woke up quickly to a beep from his alarm clock. 1:45! It screamed at him, as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. Blanco wasn't on the bed anymore, but Michael looked down and he was curled up on the chair to his desk, on top of a sweater.

He stole out of his cell, and down the halls to the med ward. He gave a quiet knock on the door, and Reid opened it for him.

"Michael, good. I was hoping you'd get my message. I had to be discreet. I couldn't send the blueprints in a bottle to you."

"I understand, but how did you know I could get here?" Michael asked.

Reid smirked. "I didn't. I just had a suspicion. I may have had a late night run-in with your friend Jim, a while back. He never told me why he was sneaking around, but I knew it was to do with you. If you needed blueprints, I just assumed you already had the passwords you needed."

"I'm counting on that assumption." Michael said back. Reid looked confused, but ignored it. "So, did you get them?"

"I wouldn't have dragged you all the way here for nothing, would I now?" Reid joked. "I don't have blueprints, per say, but I do have a ground map of the building, that includes all exits, and I have one more thing for you. It's the schedules for the doors. I managed to snag a copy one day when I was tending wounds in the guards ward. They had gotten in a fight over their late night poker games, and one guard had to get his face stitched up good."

"Thank you, Doctor." Michael said, after Reid stepped over to his desk and took a paper from the top, handing it to him. He took the page and read it. It was exactly what he had needed, and now he finally set a date for execution. If all went well from here on in, which he assumed it would, it was just a waiting game, for a certain somebody in a tan uniform to make the wrong move.

Michael made his way back to his cells, and jotted down everything he needed for his plan in his book. He picked the best door, and the best time to leave. It was at three o'clock, am. A month from then. He wrote down every single detail of the night he would escape. He knew he was getting out of that door. It had been a year now, in this hell of a testing facility. He wrote about how he was going to see his family, and how he was going to stay with them forever, and hide them, and keep them safe.