With a frustrated grunt, Lamark let go of the third kitchen knife produced this day and dismissed it. Obediently, it ceased to exist in a small shower of sparks, not quite reaching the floor, before its fall was broken by non-existance.
Try as he might, it was impossible for him to hold the knife in a way, where he could cut the restraints on his own; he just couldn't get the blade near enough, without hurting himself and he did not want to explain cuts to Directress Lip Stick Lady or even Lab Coat Woman Dollerhove.
He sighed again. As much as he wanted to get himself out of this mess, the fact of the matter was annoyingly obvious: He'd need one of the others to do the cutting. Maybe Dylan. Maybe F...
bang.
His reverie was interrupted by a loud noise. It sounded like something had been dropped from a great height. For reasons he couldn't rationalize, the noise scared him and made him feel even more vulnerable in his fixed position. Something about it tugged at his mind and wanted him to be more afraid than he was; that in itself worried him more than the noise itself. The jagged lines on the monitor told him that his heart was beating slightly faster.
He stared in the direction of the door until his eyes watered. Nothing more happened; no one came. Whatever the noise had been, it evidently hadn't been necessary to include this part of the floor.
[If only I could leave this stupid bed,] he complained to no one but himself. [I'd be able to do something, anything. Here, I'm useless.]
Extending another sigh of frustration into a long exhalation, he settled back on the pillow and closed his eyes.
In his mind's eye, he began designing a tool that could be held in his hand, reach back down his wrist and only had just enough of a sharp edge to cut the restraints and not himself.
The mental exercise helped slow down his heart rate and he knew it would be around 90-100 heartbeats, before he could manifest anything again.
He was almost ready to test out his new design, when he heard the pneumatic door slide open. Cursing silently, he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.
He heard a set of footsteps, the soft tread of the guards' boots, as well as the flip-flop of Dollerhove's faded pink crocs. There were strange smells too.
Urine.
Something metallic.
An acrid, almost peppery smell.
"Weighs more than he looks," a male voice - one of the guards - grunted.
Something settles onto a bed. All three smells become sharper.
Are they bringing a new kid who wet themselves? What's that metallic smell then; almost like... blood.
"Aww, shit. The little fucker's pissed on me," one of the guards exclaims. "No way, I'm standing guard smelling like a urinal cake, for another three hours."
"What? You ain't riding up the elevator with us either, man," the other guard laughs.
Something beeps.
Lamark tenses, fearing he's been exposed.
"Oh crappie day," Dollerhove groans. "7-16 is throwing a fit again. Welp. I guess I can clean up this mess later. C'mon."
"Oh, I'm coming," the first guard affirms. "Freaks too scared to do anything anyway. I can change and be back, before they know it."
"Your funeral, if Mitchell finds out," the other replies, as all three of them are moving towards the door.
YOU ARE READING
Children of the New Dawn n-logy: Book 2 - Liberated.
Fantasy"After an adjusted new way of living, Fae, Lamark and Dylan continue their own personal journeys towards their goal of knowing the truth. The Institute is changing, and the children are evolving. Becoming much more powerful, and intellectual. What w...
