The School For Gifted Kids

Chapter 25: Willa

Authors note:
I know that I unpublished the last chapter, but I am re-writing it. This is actually chapter 25.

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We walked through several hallways till we reached a steep stairwell heading down. Florescent lights flicked and stains of varying color were the only decorations I could see. Compared to the rest of the facility, it was trashed. I heard a click as Caddy locked the door behind us. I took a shaky breath and carefully took a step forward, wary of the cracks in the stairs. Normally, I would consider myself composed, but today, with Ben's life at stake? I had trouble controlling my breathing I felt Caddy reassuringly place a hand on my shoulder and I took another step.

"So, now that there's no turning back, what does TC stand for?" She didn't say anything, and I turned around to see a tear slipping from her cheek. It took me by surprise, as Caddy tended to be withdrawn and unemotional.

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask."

"Please, what could it be? It can't be that bad." She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

"It stands for Torture Chamber. And believe me, it can be bad." I suddenly felt sick. I felt myself falling, and Caddy caught me. We didn't anything else as we continued down the stairs. An awful stench floated up the stairwell of disinfectant mixed with acid. We reached the end of the steps and walked down a dimly lit damp hallway. Unknown brown stained splotched the walls and floors, and the acidic smell was stronger here. The fluorescents above me flickered on and off, buzzing ominously. A beige door was at the end of the hall, and I pulled on the cold metal handle. I was taken aback by the torture chamber.

"Wow." I whispered. The walls were a cheerful violet, and the lights were dim, yet warm and welcoming. A cherry hardwood floor and rugs completed the look.

"I know. It's surprising." She sighed. "You were expecting torches and stone floors?"

"I guess. I certainly wasn't suspecting- are those candles?!"

"Yep. Non-scented, of course. It irritates Anastasia's allergies. Not that she comes down here much, anyway."

"Where's all the torture tools?"

"Over there." She pointed at an oak door with a lock on it. "But to unlock it, we need to get the key from over there." She pointed to a marble counter. No one was behind it. It almost seemed too easy. Much too easy. I held out my hand, stopping Caddy from going towards the door.

"Wait. Something doesn't feel right." I ran my hands over a dark bookshelf. My finger came up covered with dust.

"Cleaning service doesn't come down here often." Caddy laughed, releasing a bit of tension. Then I thought of something. I collected a little dust in my hand and blew it over the space next to the shelf. Caddy gasped.

"Just as I thought." I frowned. A wall of lasers, straight down the center of the room appeared in the dim light. Even a hair touching the lasers would send all of Anastasia's manpower down here, with orders kill on sight. I'd never felt so afraid. Suddenly, I heard a doorknob turn. I pulled Caddy behind the small space between the shelf and the wall. Through a space in the books, we could see the room. A man stepped out of another door at the end of the room. From what I could see, it was a small washroom. The man's movements were quick, as if he knew exactly where he was going. He had dark skin the color fresh earth, and rectangular glasses framed his face, while his curly hair was in a tight man bun. I tried to withhold my laughter. Man buns always looked a little ridiculous, but this kind of suited him. As walked to his desk, the air rippled around him. He must have had some sort of device that protected him from the lasers. A phone rang at the desk.

"Innovation Industries. Front desk." He had a crisp British accent. I nudged Caddy.

"Innovation Industries?" I whispered.

"That must be the name of Anastasia's company."

"Why is the front desk in the torture chamber?" She just shushed me. The phone call was on speaker.

"Mr. Lockheed, we have escapees on the loose. We suspect they may travel into your sector."

"Escapees? I don't understand." Shuffling on the other end. Muffled voices.

"...not high enough security clearance.."

"...he doesn't know..." Suddenly, a gruff voice arose clearly.

"Mr. Pedit, we require you vacate the premises of the front desk immediately. Security personnel will down in a minute to escort you." Then it struck me. He thought he was just working the front desk at a company. He didn't know... anything.