I stumble out of the elevator. My right leg buckles under me. I am barely able to steady myself.
Strangers envelope me. They stare down at my burned and bloodied figure with wide eyes and pale faces, but no one says or does anything to help me. Michael is talking about the history of the last war and the creation of the Movement. He'll enact his plan soon. As soon as I can bring myself to my feet, I suck in as deep a breath as I can and bellow, "Stop!"
Silence laces the room so quickly and so heavily that I almost think I've gone deaf. I can only hear my heavy, ragged breathing as I scan the room. Everyone stares in horror at my disfigured face. I find Baya's eyes in the crowd. They glisten in the fluorescent light as she rakes them across what she can see of me. She has a large, scabbed cut across her face. I can only imagine what it's from. My gut sinks. I have no idea what's happened outside of my imprisonment; what have my friends gone through?
I don't let my eyes linger on her for too long. Instead, I bring them to Michael. They land on his dark, brooding face. His cheeks are turning a deep pink as he works to contain his anger. He knows if he loses his cool now that he could lose everybody in this room--altered memories can't control emotions. Now that I've risen, I'm in his full sight. He almost looks like he's seen a ghost. In a way, he has--he left me for dead not long before.
I move to take one step forward, dragging my bloody leg after me. As soon as Michael notices me advancing, he shouts. "Grab him! He shouldn't be here."
A bulky man standing just in front of me spins on his heels and shoves me into the wall. My left shoulder aches from being pounded into the metal. He presses one of his sleeved arms against my mouth to keep me from yelling out; the burned skin along my face scalds at his force. His other hand moves to press against my abdomen. I can't even sink down to wallow in how sore I am. I'm left to stare ahead as Michael speaks. He's perched himself on top of a table. I can hardly see his head from where I'm at. Even though I'm pinned to the wall, I'm still sunk quite low from my deep, pained slouch. The large man is hunched to stay at eye level with me, though his are blank. He isn't completely present. My heart sinks. All of these people--they're all under Michael's influence. All their memories are altered. They think Michael is the alpha; they'll do anything he says as long as he keeps up his persona.
"As I was saying," Michael continues. His voice is amplified around the room. Each word echoes off the walls. My mind can't help but absorb them as he speaks. Even though I haven't ingested any of the tainted food, I feel like I've eaten a years worth in a moment. "The Movement has been wrong in the past; but our community was set up to make this wrongness right. We can put all the pieces together to make our world whole again." I try to push the man away, but I'm so weak I'm hardly able to make his arm budge. He presses his fist tighter into my abdomen. My vision is starting to sway heavily.
The distance in his eyes finally strikes a chord as his large body overtakes me. It reminds me of Beau as he stood across from me with a Taser pointed right at my chest, how he was so willing to shoot me. My breathing starts to get heavy and my adrenaline begins to pulse. "And I've finally developed what I need to do this. We can transform the entire Movement to believe what we believe through a mind alteration technology I developed. We can finally end the experiment and start anew with what I've started here."
I bite the man's arm as tightly as my half-numb mouth can. He gasps and loosens his grasp. I try to bring my right arm up to punch his face, but someone else pulls him away. I watch as one of Brody's strong arms connects with the man's empty face. The force is so great that the guy falls unconscious at our feet. Breathing heavily, he turns back to me.
YOU ARE READING
Unspoken
Science FictionThe Movement: an experimental society that has come into it's prime. Words are limited and hardly heard. The society is cloaked in white and silence, in perfection and order. Taeo Ramm has always been the perfect Movement citizen. He has waited for...