Subject 15

CHAPTER 6 - Seth

I slowly pulled myself out of the thick, murky darkness, and weakly opened my eyes. I could smell smoke, and something else, something dark and rich. It made my empty stomach roar, and when I tried to sit up, I groaned in pain. "Easy there – you have a bad one there."

I instantly froze at the voice, and as my eyes focused, I realized I wasn't alone. I was leaning against one of the sides of the cubicle I called home, my right side facing the shattered window, a blanket covering my legs and waist. My wound was covered with a small patch of gauze, and a damp rag was laid across my forehead. But in front of me, her right side facing me, was a young woman, attending a fire.

The woman, in the firelight, seemed to be roughly my age, maybe 19 or 20, and gave off an air of maturity. Her skin was like bronze, dark and almost reflective in the weak light, and her dark hair fell to her chest. She wore a grey tank top with ripped up jeans, and a red zip-up hoodie was tied around her waist. Her exposed arms were dirty, but toned and strong, and a thin cut along her right cheekbone gave her a warrior-like appearance. She breathed quietly through her soft nose, and her lips were pressed in concentration as she stirred something in a metal can on the fire.

She looked out of the corner of her eyes at me, her dark eyes making me self-conscious about the fact that I lacked a shirt, and she said, "I almost thought you weren't gonna make it. You were out for two days, and I haven't seen many people walk away from a wound like that."

I was hesitant to say anything, and darted a look at my discarded Mask, the tech laying beside the woman. The woman stood up, catching my eyes as she said, "I wasn't going to steal it – I needed to make sure you didn't have any other injuries."

She took the rag from my forehead, which I noticed was a scrap of my shirt, and used the wet cloth to pick up the hot can. She set the can beside me, a dark liquid swirling around inside it. From it came the rich scent, and the woman said, "Drink it – I tried to doctor it up as much as I could. Sorry for using all of your sugar packets." I weakly grabbed the can, blew on the liquids, and took a sip only to splutter at the strong and bitter taste. "Not much of a coffee drinker, are you?"

"Is that what that is?" I hoarsely asked, gently setting the can down.

"So he speaks," said the woman with a smile as she crouched near the fire, digging around in a small beaten-up backpack. "And here I thought you might be a mute. You certainly aren't normal, that's for sure."

I froze again, and slowly asked, "What makes you say that?" watching to see if the woman would pull a weapon out of the backpack. The woman turned, smiling, showing her teeth, to the fire with a can of beans and a can opener. "These should have expired three months ago, but I find most things are good in a can long after their expiration date."

The woman opened the can of beans and placed it directly on the coals, answering my question with, "Again, I haven't seen many people walk away from a wound like that."

The woman stepped away from the fire, coming to kneel beside me, placing one hand on my shoulder and the other near my wound. I tensed at her touch, and she said with a smirk, "Easy there, no need to get fired up over me." She started to gently peel away the gauze and said almost to reassure herself, "See?" I looked down and sucked in a small breath.

My wound, despite the expectation of swelling, bleeding, or, worst of all, an infecting, was nearly fully healed, and was starting to form scar tissue over three small stitches. The woman shook her head and said, "Nothing we can do about the stitches now, except hope that they don't cause any trouble later."

The woman sat back on her legs, looking intently at me, as if, if she looked hard enough, she would find the answer to some unspoken question. "Who are you?" she asked after a pause. I hesitated before answering, "Nobody."

The woman scoffed and aid, "Nobody normal, that's for sure. Nobody around here is close to being as good of shape as you are," finished the woman with a small smirk. When I didn't reply, the woman asked, "What's your name?" As I started to answer, she held up her hand and said, "The truth. I'll know if it's anything else than that."

I locked eyes with the woman, and felt that she meant what she said, which wasn't good for me. "Seth," I replied.

The woman nodded and asked, "Where'd you get that, Seth?" pointing to my wound.

I gave a small shrug, trying to sit up, saying, "Fight."

The woman put a hand on my shoulder and gently, but forcefully, pushed me back, asking, "How did you get here last night?"

I paused for a moment before saying, "I don't know...."

The woman's eyes gleamed as she asked, "Who do you think patched you up?"

I didn't say anything as she said, "I saw what happened, and I saw what you could do."

The woman's hand was still on my shoulder, and she locked eyes with me, saying, "Last chance Seth – who are you? How did you get here?"

The woman's dark eyes pierced me, never blinking, until I gave a small sigh and said, "I can't tell you."

The woman's expression didn't change, and I finished with, "But I can show you."

The woman stared at me for a short time, and I asked, "Can you help me up?" After a pause, the woman nodded, and put her hand under my arm, careful of my, now healed, wound. I stood up and stiffly stretched, wincing a little at the dull pain my stitches caused. The woman gave a small gasp as I turned around, revealing the long scar across my shoulder blade. Plasma ion rifle, from the day of my escape. I looked over my shoulder and said, almost in a pleading voice, "Please... don't be afraid."

I didn't look at the woman's expression as I turned around and closed my eyes. The all too familiar tingling feeling started in my back, just below my shoulder blades, near my spine. The tingling soon became a dull ache, then a sharp pain as new bone and muscle formed along my back. I hear the woman gasp and take a few steps back as the feathers of my broad wings formed. I breathed in, and turned to face the woman.

The woman, her eyes wide, stood there looking at me for a long time. I didn't say anything as she took a small step forward and slowly reached out to touch the tip of one of my wings. When her hand connected, she quickly pulled it back, and with a hint of fear and awe coloring her voice, she asked, "Who are you?"

I shook my head and truthfully told her, "I don't know. All I remember is waking up in some kind of lab. I escaped, and lived in the Wilderness. That's where I found my name."

The woman crossed herself and shook her head, asking, "Why are you here?" I gave a small shrug, replying, "I thought that maybe I could give city life a chance – it would be the least expected thing to do."

"With the cameras, police, other people?" asked the woman, running her hands through her hair as she took a step back.

I pointed to my Mask and said, "That's why I have that."

The woman nodded and kept quiet for a while before sticking out her hand, saying, "Well... my name is Raven." I hesitantly took her hand, and she shook mine, saying after a pause, "Want some beans?"