Marcid

Thirty-Eight - Zeke

Zeke awoke, finding himself in a van. A dirty one, at that. Two soldiers with armed assault rifles sat across from him, conversing with one another. They wore tactical uniforms. They were new. He hadn't seen them before. Well, one of them. The other one looked familiar. It was the uniform that messed with his memory. He lied on the floor of the van, his hands tied with an uncomfortable rope behind his back. A rag was wrapped around his mouth, his teeth over the saliva-drenched rag. The taste was unbearable, Zeke observed. He wanted to gag and vomit, to let the disgusted feeling out. Though he may be lying here for a while. He swallowed the lump in his throat, along with some saliva that seemed to never stop producing. The taste of the rag tainted the spit. He coughed, gagging from the rancid taste. The soldiers stopped talking almost immediately, their attention, now unfortunately, on Zeke. He looked up at the soldiers, fear striking through his body. He shifted back quickly, shaking his head. "Don't—don't hurt me, please." He pleaded, his words muffled from the rag. His breath felt hot against the dirty-wet rag. "I'll do anything!" He said. The soldiers stared, seeming unfazed from underneath their balaclavas. Their silence only made Zeke more paranoid. Were they going to kill him? He didn't want to die! He wasn't ready yet. He wouldn't come back like—

Kory.

Kory! He had nearly forgotten all about him! Where was he? He had been missing for hours, or perhaps an entire day. How long was he out? Zeke needed to find him. He needed to find Kory one way or another. Even if it cost him his life. "Where's Kory?" He muffled through the poorly tasted rag. The soldiers continued to stare, their eyes boring into Zeke's skull. It only made shivers go down his spine. "Say something! Please!" He rose his voice, attempting to sit up. Instead, he fell on his back, the rumbling of the van making it more painful than it should be. He felt tears prick at his eyes, his nose starting to sting and his throat start to close up. Was he about to cry? About what? He needed to pull himself together. It would be heavily embarrassing to cry in front of soldiers, especially ones who already think that he was weak. He could have just thrown up, instead of crying. "Please." He whispered, his voice suddenly raspy. Zeke forced the tears to go back up, yet his eyes held the same glassy look. "Where is he?"

"Where is who, kid?" One soldier spoke up. His voice was gruff, and low. Zeke read the name tag that was sewed onto the soldier's uniform. Cabrera. Was that his last name?

"Kory," Zeke choked out. He was involuntarily taking deep breaths. His chest felt tight. "Where is he?"

"Who?" Cabrera scoffed. "Don't waste my time with your mind games."

Cabrera's response simply made Zeke frustrated. He wasn't playing 'mind games' with him. He just wanted to know where Kory was. Was it so hard to find out where the only person he truly cared about resided? Where was he taken? If he was taken. Maybe he ran off. It would have been the better option. The loving couple made Zeke go crazy. At least he didn't have to hear them right now. "I'm not." Zeke grumbled. "Where is he? Just tell me!" He rose his voice again, his anger slipping through again. He needed to control himself. It's rude to yell.

"Calm down." Cabrera muttered. He looked down at Zeke. Zeke could somewhat notice his eyes behind his goggles. They were blue. Like Kory's. His lashes were light-colored, instead of the usual dark-colored lashes Zeke would find on people. Like Kory's. Everything reminded him of Kory. He wanted him. He needed him here. Everything would just be okay if he was here. Right? Zeke's tense muscles slightly loosened, his head lowering down to the ground. Hopelessness started to seep in.

"I'm sorry." He huffed, the anger slipping away. There was no point in being angry. He wouldn't be set free, anyhow. "Do you know who Kory is?" He queried.

Cabrera shared a glance with the other soldier. The name tag on the other soldier's name was Mitchell. Mitchell let out a quiet sigh, his gloved hand fidgeting with the assault rifle that he was carefully holding in his arms. The two soldiers didn't respond, which only brought back Zeke's frustration. It was mild, this time. "Answer me, this time? Please?" He bit back harsh words he would have said, if it wasn't for the lab's teachings of etiquette and kindness. The two soldiers shook their head as if they were asked something ridiculous. No? Zeke rolled his eyes, grumbling. "Fine." He grumbled. "Don't say anything. Ignore me all you want."