Collateral Damage

Prologue

"What is her name?"  The man asked as he glided down the white-washed halls.
"That one?"
The asylum nurse nodded towards the girl in the room they were looking at who was awfully occupied with a book. Her eyes fed off of every word, hungrily eyeing each page as if it were her lifeline.
"Yes ma'am." He replied, his voice stern.
"Sir," she began gently, "Maybe you'd like to look at another patient for your experiment-"
"She has a name doesn't she?" He said almost as crisply as his lintless black suit.
The nurse hesitated, and the man swiveled towards the guards that were following them.
"Well then sirs, what is her name?"
No reply.
"Her name is Genevieve. Genevieve Reid. Her parents left her here about a year ago, and within that year she managed to escape twice, get into twelve fights, and rally all of the other patients in a riot as they screamed for 'Psycho rights'. She has been put here in isolation since then." The nurse finally answered, shaking her head.
Suddenly, the girl got up and started banging her head against the wall.
"I thought you said she was fairly stable."
The nurse let out a cruel laugh.
"She is a trouble maker, and sometimes it seems as if she does this for attention."
The girl's head snapped towards them and her eyes looked straight into the man's soul. She then proceeded to make a rude gesture with some choice fingers.
One of the guards laughed only to be met with a sharp gaze from the thin woman.
"Can she hear us?"
"She isn't supposed to be able to. These walls are two feet of concrete."
"Can she see us?" He prodded.
"No, this is a two-way mirror."
"Well then how does she know we are even here?"
"We haven't quite figured that out yet."
"Then let me ask her myself." The man said.
"Open this door." He demanded.
"Sir-" she started, but he paid no mind.
"Guards, this is federal research and if you don't want to comply then I have no choice but to-"
"Oh for heaven's sake, open the door!" She said, exasperated.
As soon as the iron door opened, the stench of rubbing alcohol and stiff cleanliness wafted towards him. The girl was already sitting back on her white-sheeted bed with the book in her hands once more.
"Hello, my name is Mr. Larren." He turned to the guards. "You can go on out."
One began to protest, but he quickly cut them off. They left the room.
He glanced back towards the girl, whose sandy blond hair shone in the sun that was glinting through the barred windows.
It was pulled back in a neat, thin ponytail (unnaturally straight) with two tendrils of hair left out to frame her face. She remained silent. Suddenly, something else glinted near her finger. It was a small string that led under the door and out into the hallway. He knew this trick, but hardly believed a child could pull it off. The idea was to feel the vibrations through the clear wire so that you could stealthily tell when someone was near. How could a man like him miss it? He cleared his throat.
"What are you reading there?"
No reply. He glanced at the cover and read: Fahrenheit 451.
"That's a good book." He tried, but he was hardly good at non-business talk. She didn't even flinch. Her breathing was even and she sat hunched over in a criss-cross position. Her white, cotton scrubs steadily raised and lowered with her breaths.
"Where did you get that string to tell the vibrations?"
She looked up, almost startled, but a slick grin spread across her face. She had a scar under her left eye. They were a cold shade of gray, almost as if it had tried to reach a light blue but didn't make it there. Calculating and clever.
"Didn't they tell you about me?" She spoke with a silver tongue.
"Very little. How old are you?" Now he was getting to the questions recorded for this project of sorts. The one to see if children could be just as effective agents as adults. The theory was that they could blend easier with the crowd, but also defend if needed. It would use many resources, so he had to choose wisely.
"Twelve."
"And what is your name?" Of course he knew, but he wanted to see how her mind worked.
"Well, if they didn't tell you, I won't say. I hate that name. The people around here call me Col."
"You mean the patients?"
"Don't call them patients." She snapped. "Like they're sick or something."
"You're awfully bold for a twelve year old." This is where the test began.
"Yeah, well you're awfully observant for an old man."
She struck his pride and he almost lashed out when her head jerked to the mirror and she smiled and waved.
"How did you know that was a two-way mirror? Surely they sedated you on your way. And how can you tell who is who?"
She squinted at him and looked as if he were a stupid kid.
"You should know more than that. People like you should."
He knew how you could tell, but he needed to know if it was luck or skill.
"People like me?"
"Yeah. You're an agent. Probably head of it judging by the stitches in your suit. They're for the rich. Don't think I can't see the bud way down in your ear."
He was impressed, but this wasn't enough.
"Answer my question."
She sighed, frustrated.
"Well, if you must know, if you stuck your finger up to a mirror and there isn't a gap, it's a two-way mirror. Also, this is an asylum. How do you think they keep my people from killing themselves or chewing their hands off? And how I can differentiate between people is by the vibrations they send. Some people step heavier or faster than others."
"You say these are your people, but you don't seem to belong-" he paused, remembering how she responded earlier to his referral to them being "impaired" and if he was going to recruit her, he needed her full cooperation. "in a place like this."
She laughed without humor.
"And why not? Don't you know that this is where they put all the people who don't fit in? I was 'obsessed' with defending myself, and my birth givers couldn't take care of me."
That was all he needed. He stood up and brushed himself off.
"Alright. Thank you, Genevieve-"
"Col." She corrected.
"Col. Come with me."
She was for once, actually shocked.
"What? Where are we going?"
"You do want to get out of here don't you?"
"Well yeah but-"
"Why do they call you Col?"
Her mischievous, confident smile returned.
"Get me out of here and you'll find out."
And so they walked down the sterile hallways towards the future.