Survival

•Seven•

Just then, the men came back in. They spoke to Evelynne quietly and the left.

Evelynne smirked at Arlo, "Finally. Are you ready for your mission?"

"Yeah. I am. Are you allowed to tell me now?" he asked, a little sarcastically.

"Not yet. But I'm supposed to get you ready." Evelynne gestured to the familiar table, "Sit down, Arlo."

Arlo sighed. 'I really hate that table,' he thought. 'If I could burn it, I would.' He walked over and sat down, not laying down.

"Lay down, please."

"Why?" Arlo challenged.

"Because I have to stitch your stomach up again."

"Fine." Arlo grumbled, then complied.

Evelynne didn't bother strapping him down, but was none too gentle when she stitched his wound closed. She yanked a couple of times, not caring when he winced.

"There." She said, satisfied with her work. She grabbed something off the wall and stuck it to Arlo's arm. Then, she pushed a trigger-like mechanism and a needle was injected into Arlo's arm. Arlo winced again, then quickly rearranged his features. His face looked calm to Evelynn, but unseen by her, he was groaning in pain. 'This burns so bad.' He complained to himself, but he didn't want her to know or have any satisfaction. Evelynne pulled the needle out and put the mechanism down. She swabbed his arm to catch the blood and placed that down as well. Finally, she opened a cabinet against the wall and pulled out a cotton shirt. She tossed it at him, "Here. Catch."

Arlo barely caught the shirt, then struggled to put it on. "What did you put in me?" he asked weakly.

"It's just some tracking fluid." She answered. "Be careful. I don't want to stitch you up again." She gestured to him putting on his shirt and raising his arms, which put stress on his stitches.

Arlo ignored her last comment, then asked, "Why do I have to be tracked?"

"So you don't run away, Arlo." Evelynne stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why would I want to run away?" Arlo asked, confused.

"Well you certainly aren't the smartest bulb out there." She commented dryly.
Arlo rolled his eyes and ignored her.

The door creaked open, halting their conversation. A burly man walked over to Arlo. "Follow me." He ordered gruffly. Arlo sat up, groaning, and followed him.

They headed down the dimly lit hallways for a couple of minutes before he man led Arlo into a sterile room. It was much like the room he had been in, except for one thing. There was a bloody man tied to the wall in the corner. It was the man that had helped Arlo try to escape.

Arlo looked from the bloody man tied up, to the man who brought him here. "Why are we here?" The man didn't answer. Instead, he turned around and walked right back out the door. It shut with a quiet click. "Wait!" Arlo called after him, then sighed. He turned back to the wounded man and walked slowly over to him, still keeping a little distance in between them.