Specimen 54559

Chapter 11

  When I first awoke all I could feel was intense pain in the back of my head. That was my first inkling that told me that I wasn't dead. Not yet at least. I slowly opened my eyes and peek through between my lashes. There doesn't seem to be anything threatening, but to be fair, I couldn't really see anything. I open my eyes completely and blink away the fog that has been bestowed upon me.

  It takes a few moments for my bird eyes to adjust to the new found lighting, which wasn't much, given that there were no windows. The room was dim and filled with a musky scent that reminded me of the dungeons underneath the facility back home. No, that's not my home anymore, it never was. I notice that the room that I am in isn't all that large. From where I am, I see the metal door only about twelve feet away from where I sit, slivers of light coming through the opening from between the bottom of the door and the stone floor. Yes, so it seems that I am sitting. I can feel the cold of the rock walls seep through my shirt and sink into my wings and the growing numbness of my legs from how my body is set upon them.

  I shift my legs from out underneath me and stretch them out, feeling the blood rush through them. I lean my head back and heave a sigh of relief, grateful to know that my being is still in one piece. There's an itch on the side of my face and reach to scratch it I notice my wrists are cuffed with rusted metal.

  "Well that's just fantastic," I mutter as I follow the trail of chains to the wall behind me, preventing me from ever reaching the door across the room.

  As I pull my hand away from my face I note that there are flecks of red embedded in my fingernails. I gently run my hand over the side of my face and find it to be crusted over, the trail leading up to my ear, and the same on the other side. What even happened? I ask myself.

  Then the events of that night came rushing back, causing the pain in the back of my head to flare and worsen my headache. Being rescued, that boy, Dylan, becoming upset, Jason, dinner, and Ezabell and that dreadful Noise. What had Ezabell said about it? She said it was something the East uses on the West forces, right?

  I recover from my thoughts as I hear steps come from outside my cell and I struggle to stand, taking hold of the wall and putting one leg underneath me at time. The door clicks and grinds as it is unlocked and slides open, spilling unwelcome light into the room. I squint into the light and bring up my other hand to shield my eyes as two silhouettes step in.

  They come to a stop a few steps in front of me and I stand straighter, coming out from my hunched form, and lean my back against the wall for support. The chains rattle as I lower my hands to rest at my sides. Pain laces throughout my head as I incline it to the figures, giving them an emotionless expression for the time being. At least, I hope that's what I look like. I catch their sent as I inhale through my nose. One is human and male, that is for sure, but the other smells of metal and unnatural.

  "Who are you?" I question as it seems that neither were going to speak first.  "Why am I here? Where are the others?"

  The one on the right, the human, lets out a dry chuckle, lacking of any true emotion behind the laugh. "Your companions are fine. They had just woken up not too long ago and are out waiting for you. They refuse to speak until you come join them." His voice isn't too deep like an older man, but isn't high like younger people seem to have. I assume that he must be in his twenties.

  "Why am I in chains?" I take the said chains in my hands and shake them in angry fists. "I thought the East showed more kindness to Refugees than this."

  "Human Refugees, young one, your kind must go through a series of questions before we are able to trust you," the man answered. The humanoid of metal on the left comes towards me and I can hear its metal feet slide and clank on the ground with each step, the gears whirring with each motion. As it comes closer I can see that it is in fact a robot, its human shaped covered in sheets of metal, its face covered by a helmet and the East badge on each of its broad shoulders.
The metal human reaches out with its slender fingers for my wrist, one taking my cuffed hand and the other has the metal on the pointer finger slide back and away from the key that was on the inside, and inserts it into the lock. With a turn followed by a click the cuff clatters to the ground with the chains pooling around it. I watch as it steps to my other side and does the same to that cuff and steps away back to the man's side, each of its movements fluid and complete. I grab my left wrist and gently rub it as I glance between the man and the metal human.

  "Well," the human male broke the awkward silence that had befallen the cell, "shall we go see your friends?" He gestured towards the door, clearly wanting me to go before him.

  I take a few hesitant steps forwards, testing the strength of my legs. They are slightly wobbling but not enough to hinder my walking. I slowly walk towards the door but stop in front of the man, clearly seeing his face now that the light is not behind him. He seems to be an inch taller than I, his face angular and sharp, his hair buzzed across the top like in the old human military photos. He is in the East uniform which consists of a khaki shirt and pants that are tucked into brown boots, a matching brown belt looped through his pants with the shirt tucked in the waistband. There are pockets on each side of his pants and on each breast on his shirt. I notice the Eastern Symbol pinned over his heart and his I.D. badge hooked onto his right shirt pocket.

  Lyon Dionysius. Hm. "Nice to meet you, Lyon," I say and thrust a hand out toward the man. Lyon looks between my outstretched hand and my face. He reaches out and grasps my hand in a firm handshake, gripping my hand rather roughly, probably showing that he is the strongest one here. I return his grip with equal force before letting go.

  I look at the machine that is standing across from where Lyon is facing and give him a grin, knowing he probably can't see it. "And thank you, Jeff, for unlocking my cuffs."

  Lyon gives me a quizzical look as I head out the door, "Jeff?" I give him a nod and proceed to pull my wings out to their full extent in the newly given space and sway my tail across my legs. I throw my arms up and stretch, arching my back a giving a small squeal and a heavy sigh as I release and slump down and then stand straight again.

  "Okay," I say as I look down each way of the hall we were standing in, the cell door now shut. The walls were painted a navy blue and the ceiling smooth with their lights shining through them and the door a steel grey and as were the other doors that dotted the walls down the hall. "Where do we go from here?"
Lyon steps down the left hall in front of me and leaving Jeff to pull up the rear with me in the middle. I pad along silently, the only noise was the slight sound of Lyon's boots touching the marble floor and Jeff's metal feet clinking as he walked behind.

  As we make our way down the hall I notice that my green jacket was gone along with my sword. "Uh, hey, Lyon, where's my stuff?"

  "We took them. Procedure." Was all he said as he kept a steady pace with his hands folded behind him.

  I quicken my steps to catch up to him, Jeff speeding up as well to keep close, and come up to his left side, walking backwards so he can see my face as I ask my next question. "When will I get them back?" My brows scrunched together and my eyes cold.

  Lyon glances down at me and then fixes them ahead again, "All in due time, little girl."

  My scowl deepens, "I am not 'little', you're only an inch taller than me, and when you called me 'young one' earlier, I'm actually sixty-five."

  I turn and start to walk forward again, staying in step at Lyon's side, staring down the hall. I wish I could burn a hole in that wall, or better, through this guy's forehead. We continue down the hall, not speaking, taking a right at the end of it, accompanied by the whirring and clicking of Jeff being the only sound that could be heard through our deafening silence.