The Lost War (Hectic Series: Book One)

Chapter 14

The cell door banged open and in marched a woman in the strange green mottled uniform. Her straight brown hair fell to her shoulders. She had olive skin and dark green eyes.
She was tiny, as tall as Kim's shoulder and thin. She didn't really look like a threat and simultaneously gave off an air of lethal intention.
She was carrying a syringe.
Kim sprang up when the door opened and shot for the woman, hoping she could knock her out and make a stealthy escape.
The woman jammed her fist into Kim's abdomen, slid in the syringe and depressed the plunger.
Liquid fatigue rolled through her veins and Kim's mind filled with fog, not so much that she couldn't think coherently but enough to where her limbs felt heavy.
"Ah," she whispered, the poison already numbing her response.
The woman removed her clothes without emotion, stuffed them in her black messenger bag, pulled out a pair of gauzy blue pants and a white T-shirt, and re-dressed her.
She was dragged down the hall, the woman's steps echoing off of the cement walls, past numerous iron doors, and brought to a small doorway at the end of the corridor.
The woman walked her inside, supporting her with an arm around her waist.
Kim swayed on her feet and the room was fuzzy. She could see a metal table in the middle, surrounded by an array of strange machines and instruments.
It was in this cold metal room that she was strapped to the cold metal table and introduced to the cold metal world that was Earth. She struggled weakly as the woman tied her down, but her body was sluggish and her mind fatigued. Her wings hung off the table and her stitches pinched painfully between her back and the metal.
Dr. Gregor appeared from behind a wall in his white lab coat and thick rubber gloves. His graying hair was receding, causing his already prominent forehead to stick out even more. The skin around his beady blue eyes crinkled as he gave her a dry smile.
He picked up a syringe and, without warning, jammed it into her forearm. Kim watched it fill with blood. Dr. Gregor placed the syringe carefully on a tray.
There were two wires with circle sticky patches on the end. He stuck one wire to Kim's left temple and the other to her right. The wires were connected to a metal box like the one in Kim's cell.
"Now," he said, the polite tone of his voice dead and gone, replaced with utter contempt, "my job is to study you, learn your secrets. But to be fair I don't think it's worth the time. You and your fellow creatures are of the Devil's work." He leaned close. His voice was low. "Do you know how God punishes sinners, Witch-woman? He sends another sinner to do the dirty work."
Kim turned her head away when he pressed the cup to her lips, glaring at the wall.
Gregor stood up and retrieved an iron kettle from the tray. "You petulant child. Can't you see we are saving your God-forsaken race?" He titled the kettle.
Hot oil dripped onto her forearm, soaked through her shirt, splashed off of her neck and chest.
It burned almost as bad as cauterizing her wing.
Gregor just kept pouring more and more, dripping the scalding oil onto her skin-which would scar her arms and neck with red splotches-until she was shaking.
He picked up the cup again. "Drink it."
Kim held her breath as he pressed the cup against her mouth, gasping for air once he took it away. "What is it, anyway?" She sneered. She'd never heard herself sound so mean.
"Hallucinogens," he deadpanned, "of a sort. It will cause your brain to engineer visions of your most horrific fears. I'll need ideas if I'm to do my job properly."
"I'm surprised you fanatics are capable enough to do anything but spout insane dogma."
He smiled widely, but his eyes were dead. "God is wonderful, is He not? Why do you worship the devil so?"
The assistant had been standing there the entire time, watching their conversation unfold with a bored expression. She jumped when Gregor snapped at her.
"Her ties, woman! Hold her down!"
The tiny assistant scrambled to pull the restraints around Kim tight, even though they were plenty tight enough. They were scratching her arms.
"I don't worship anything," Kim spat, "you intellectually negligent skra." She knew he wouldn't understand the word, but saying it gave her a slight sense of satisfaction. "Religion is one thing, and it's completely fine in my book, but this? This isn't religion. Your 'God' would be ashamed of you, and if he wasn't, he's not any God I respect."
Gregor slammed his hands down on the metal next to her and screamed. "Bow down to the Lord Savior you fucking whore!" He was panting, pressing over her, shaking. Kim thought he might literally kill her.
Suddenly he stopped, stood, very calmly brushed his hands down his jacket. "Well," he said pleasantly, as though he hadn't just lapsed into a psychotic episode, "if you won't drink, I'll have to make you take your medicine myself." He filled a syringe with the red syrup.
He stabbed her in the neck with it.
Kim began to convulse, straining against the straps that bound her to the table.
Gregor pulled up a chair next to her, watching in fascination. He looked up at the assistant and laughed. "Now we've got the bitch."
The assistant saluted and marched out of the room as the metal box flickered and came to life, her hallucinations displayed across the screen.
Kim convulsed for a few more seconds, twitching this way and that, and then she fell still.
...
There was a man walking across the lawn.
There was a flash of darkness, as though she had blinked, and then the concrete wall of Gregor's lab.
Flash.
The field was dead, the grass burnt away, scorch marks scarring the ground.
Flash.
Gregor sitting in his chair.
Flash.
The field was empty but for the man slowly limping toward her. He carried a cane.
Flash.
Restraints. Pinning her to the table. Harsh light.
Flash.
It was Oliver. He shambled towards her with an odd, lurching gait. Blood ran down his face.
Flash.
The metal box and cold walls.
Flash.
He carried his cane with his left hand instead of his right because it was the only one he had. His right arm had been torn off at the elbow. He was grinning. Teeth were missing and blood poured from the gaps. His right eyeball hung on his cheek. Part of his scalp had been torn off and hung down to his shoulder, bloody hair dangling in clumps.
He was gurgling. Grinning. "Kim..." It was a wet, bubbly sound, and blood frothed from his mouth as he spoke. He was closer now.
Flash.
Shallow breathing. Whimpers. Pain in her throat. She didn't remember screaming.
Flash.
Oliver was standing in front of her with his torn arm stretched out (had it been whole and not just a half his hand would have touched her shoulder) with that bloody, gaping grin.
"Kim..."
Flash.
Her father, seated at the head of the table in the throne room, and she on the far end.
"Kim." He banged his hands down on the wood and suddenly was a foot closer. "You have failed me." Bang. Closer. "You freak." Bang. Closer. "Such a disappointment." Bang. Closer. "You're not enough, Kimberly." Bang. Closer. "When were you ever enough?" Bang. Closer. "Your mother would be so ashamed." Bang. Closer. "You can't protect these people anymore than you can protect yourself." Bang. Closer. "How could you let yourself be taken like this? This is your fault." Bang. Closer. "You're desperate."
By all rights the table should have ceased to exist at this point, but her father just kept getting closer without the table getting shorter. Bang. Closer. "Kill yourself already."
Bang. Closer. "A failure to your people and your kind. God knows we'd be glad to be rid of you." Bang-
Flash.
Static on the metal box.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
Static.
Flash.
Static.
Gregor.
Flash.
Harsh light.
Flash.
...
This time there were no flashes.
Gregor stayed Gregor and the cement wall didn't morph into her dead father or bloody Oliver.
The assistant was standing over her, and then she was standing next to her. Holding her up. Dragging her back to her cell.
She dumped Kim on her cot and slammed the heavy door as she left.
Kim lay on her cot at an awkward angle, on her stomach with her bad wing sticking straight up in the air, her left arm back against her side and her right arm below her head, which was twisted to the side.
She was twitching, breathing in thready, rapid pulses.
Flash.
She tried to scream and heard a tiny, weak whine escape her throat, like an injured animal.
Flash.
The sedative she had been given earlier was nothing compared to what she was feeling now. Her heart was pounding so hard she could practically feel it slamming against the cement.
Flash.
Pain spiked behind her eyes.
Flash.
This time the darkness stayed. For one panic-stricken moment Kim thought she might have gone blind, but she didn't have much time to worry because the next second her mind went blank.
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I am now going to update once a week every Sunday instead of Monday. School is...stressful. But surprisingly fun. Especially my English class! Yay