Specimen 54559

Chapter 5

  I sit up in the watch room on the fourth floor of our concrete prison, my eyes flitting between the hundreds of screens. Some from our security cameras, others are from various news channels that show scenes of our war or people being taken away by other Peacekeepers like myself and Jason. I see houses being burned by our Firemen because the people were deemed 'traitors' by housing others hunted by the Government, Policemen beating innocents in the streets, just because Whisper had told them to. I see Namon, the head Chief of our section, tear at someone in his Werewolf form. I look away feeling sick to my stomach. How can people stand to do this? It's because they were raised to know no better. They think that what they are doing is the right thing, I answer my own question.

  I spot Dr. Daniel in his office on the second floor, watching some strange thing on his Television Wall. It's too blurry to know exactly what it is but it looks like two large beasts in an intense battle. My eyes continue to roam until I find another one of our main scientists, Dr. Brad. He is in Research Lab 3 on the third floor with another woman, dressed in the same white coat as all the other scientists. There is something inside a large tube that they are standing beside, taking notes. The tube is filled with a bubbling orange liquid with a shadow writhing around, twisting its oddly shaped body. I quickly turn away, not wanting to see what it was that they had in there, and see Dr. Somer and Dr. Chandelier on Screen 28. They both have come across Talan in his lonesome cell. I can see that Dr. Somer is pink in the face with rage, his chubby arms flailing about in his fit. Who knew that such a short, round man can look so funny when mad? Meanwhile, Dr. Chandelier seems completely unfazed by the whole ordeal, his dark face showing no emotion.

  I bite my bottom lip anxiously as Dr. Somer reaches for his plug to tell the Whisper about what they have just discovered, my canines dig into the soft skin of my lip drawing a speck of blood. A sigh of relief escapes me and I slouch forward, as if a weight had just been taken off, as Dr. Chandelier quickly hits the other doctor on the head with the back of his metal clipboard. He looks directly up into the camera, gives a thumbs up and a triumphant smile, and starts to drag the limp body of the unconscious doctor away from view.

  I shake my head slightly with a small smile plastered across my features. Such a strange man he is. A bright flash from one of the screens begs for my attention. I can feel the blood rush from my face and my wings and tail sag as I stare at the screen, my heart sinking down in my chest. Government issued Bomber jets have just destroyed one of the traveling Rebel camps near the border that separates the country. The camp is up in flames as News helicopters and left over bomber jets fly over. I can see bodies on fire, some are just humans, and others are the bodies of runaway specimens. They were so close to being free from the horror and pain the West has to offer. They were in Colorado, so close to Kansas. Just a day or two more and they would have made it. Maybe if they went towards Nebraska or Oklahoma they would a have been there sooner. It would have been nearly impossible to go through North and South Dakota, Wyoming, or Texas, for they are too heavily fortified. I just pray that the other Rebel camps are more hidden and hopefully very close the state borders.

  I hear the steady click click of heels approaching from the other side of the door. I immediately stand and turn my back to the screens to stand at attention, my hands clasped behind my back, my legs shoulder width apart and my wings locked and steady at a slightly outspread manner. The pale grey door opens soundlessly, revealing a woman with shoulder length, bleach blonde hair, dressed in a blue suit and skirt with her lab coat buttoned to a tee, covering most of her outfit. She wears the symbol of the West over near her heart and her personnel badge, with her picture and complicated black lines on it, pinned onto her coat pocket. She walks in with her bodyguard, Galen, following close behind. This woman is the most horrible person in this forsaken world, Dr. Anya. I can feel bile threatening to rise just thinking about what she has done to us all, always having a satisfied smirk plastered on her face during experiments. However, I do not dare to look her in the eye, or even breathe too loud for that matter.

  "Status report, Specimen 54559," Dr. Anya commands in her usual, bored tone as she comes and stands to my right, staring at the screens. I give a quick nod of my head to show my acknowledgement to her command, "Yes, ma'am. All runs smoothly within the walls of the facility ma'am."

  "Anything else?" she inquires, her dull eyes grazing over the screens with no expression evident on her aging face.

  "No, ma'am. Only that we have successfully bombed another Rebel camp in Colorado, near the border of our enemies' turf," I say with a firm voice and a straight face.

  "Very well," she states, turning to walk out the door from which she had entered with Galen by her side. "With such luck we will be able to put an end to this costly war, don't you think so, Specimen 54559?"

  "Yes, ma'am," I say, bringing my arm up for a salute and my feet together with my chest out and high. When she leaves with door clicking shut behind her I slouch on the spot with a heavy sigh. I hate it when I have to do that to any of the scientists. It's sad that you believe that the West will prevail, Anya, I think to myself with a small chuckle. So much faith in a lost cause. Too bad you do not know about what plan the East has to end all of this. Even if the Rebels traveling to the East are not doing so well, it does not foretell a definite win for you. The East will prevail. I will make sure of it, even if it is the last thing that I do.