Apocalypse [h.s.]

Chapter thirty five

Harry

I wasn't quite sure if my eyes were open when I woke. They felt open, but it was so unusually dark wherever I was, and I was half-asleep. Perhaps I was still asleep. The surface I was lying on was a soft bed, and my body was covered with a bed sheet. A light flashed on, and I narrowed my eyes at the uncomfortable feeling. I couldn't see much; my vision was horribly blurry, but I heard steps. Heels clicking on linoleum, slowly and steady, getting louder as they came closer. A dark shadow stood before me, and I tried to make out the face but it was impossible. It was like there was something on my eyes.

"I see you've woken up." It was a lady speaking. Her voice was dark, stern and monotonic. I could tell she had an american accent as she spoke on. "How are you feeling? Any pain in your body?"

My head went up to my head, and I quickly realized I had a throbbing headache. I could still not see clearly. "Headache," I uttered. "Can't really see.. much.."

The sound of a pen went into my ear, and I figured she was writing it down. "What do you remember from yesterday?"

I examined my brain, looking for memories of the day before, which usually went fine. Now though, I was uncertain. There was something I remembered, but it didn't exactly feel like it had been yesterday. "I was locked in a room. Global Makers tied me up, and-"

My vision became clear again, and I could finally see the woman in front of me. She was young, wearing what looked like a lab-coat. Her brown, curly hair was tied up in a bun, and she had square glasses on the tip of her nose. She looked at me with curious eyes.

"Am I at the hospital?" I asked, feeling awfully confused and fidgety. I couldn't remember what had happened to me, why I was laying in this nice bed untied, why this lady treated me like a patient. Nothing made sense to me.

She furrowed her eyebrows at me, before scribbling something down. "Wow, they really gave you the big dose," she muttered.

I frowned and slowly sat up. "What?"

With a sigh she removed her glasses and looked at me. "You're not at the hospital. You're still with Global Makers, locked in a room. Although they did move you to a much nicer room than your last. No wonder, you were brilliant yesterday," she said with a smile.

Anger built up in me, questions popping up in my mind. "What the hell are you talking about?" I yelled.

With one last smile she turned and walked towards the door. "I'll be seeing you, Harry. Hopefully the other Harry," she said and winked at me, before leaving, locking the door behind her.

The frustration inside me was unexplainable. My entire body was boiling with rage, and in a flash I fisted my hand and smashed it into the wall. I hissed with pain and retracted my hand. "Damn it," I said through gritted teeth, and sighed.

Suddenly there was a sound at the door, like a small hatch being opened and closed. I shuffled over to it, and saw on the floor two pills and a glass of water on a tray.

"For your headache," the lady said from the other side of the door, and I heard her heels click away.

I looked at the tray for a while, and lifted it up, bringing it to my table that I had just noticed. The pills looked normal, however I wasn't taking them. A word that had never been used to describe me was 'naive'. No, I was smarter than that; I knew that Global Makers wasn't just going to give me a pair of pain killers. It wasn't like they cared about my well-being. With a sigh I threw the pills in the bin, and took a sip of water. My throat felt awfully dry, so I took another sip, ending up drinking all of it. The room started to spin all of the sudden, and my legs got weak. My hand wasn't able to hold the glass anymore, and I heard it shatter as it smashed onto the floor. And as the last piece of glass broke, I found myself falling towards the floor. Then everything went black.

~

Violet

They had ran tests on me. Thousands of them. Needles. Pills. I had of course tried to refuse, but they had tackled me and tied me to my uncomfortable bed. They had succeeded with the needles, but they couldn't get me to swallow the pills. Luckily they didn't inject me with anything, they just took my blood. I had seen what they did to people, so I wasn't going to let that happen to me too.

I thought about Harry. It was all I did. I thought about him when I was tied to my bed, staring up at the white ceiling and the white walls that suffocated me. I thought about him when they were gripping my arms and legs and putting a needle into my wrist. I thought about him when I heard cries coming from outside my room, cries of torture, cries of mercilessness. Maybe it was him.

For three days I had lain there now, three days of endless staring at the walls, endless silence, endless hunger. I felt my body getting weaker and weaker every day, and my vision started getting blurry. When the doctors and professors came into my room and put needles in me, I couldn't resist. I wasn't strong enough. Maybe that was exactly what was the plan. To get me weak enough so that they could do whatever they wanted with my body.

My door opened, and I didn't even bother to lift my head. It closed, and someone locked it. That's weird, I thought. They usually didn't lock it. A face became visible to me.

"Dean?" I uttered with a hoarse voice.

He looked at me with an apologizing look as I studied his face. His freckles were exposed in the sharp light as he looked down on me.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I tried to talk them out of this, but they didn't listen to me. They never listen to me."

With furrowed eyebrows I searched for honesty and sincerity in his eyes. I found it. "Why are you being nice to me?" I asked.

Dean sighed and sat down on a chair next to my bed. I turned my head to look at him. "My dad is the executive of Global Makers. When I was a young boy he persuaded me into joining the Global Makers when I got older. He told me all these lies about it, how they did what was best for the country, how they saved people. Thinking this was the truth, I signed a contract that practically said that the Global Makers owned me. I didn't know this, but my dad did.

"When I first started working, they treated me like I was the son of the executive. With respect and honor. Then, as the years went by, I got less and less of it, and now they basically just throw me around like a freaking tossing bag. My dad doesn't give a shit about me, and treats me just like the rest. And since I signed the contract, I can't do anything but obey them."

I didn't know why, but hearing Dean's story gave me strength somehow. It gave me hope. Since he was in Global Makers, maybe there were others like him too. Maybe they could save us.

"Anyway, I just wanna do whatever good I can do around here. If I can find a way to help you and your friends, I'll do it," he said, voice stern and determined, his face just the same.

My lips formed a soft smile, and a tear ran down my cheek as I looked at him. "Thank you. Thank you, Dean," I said, and hope beamed in my eyes.