The Risks

June: Chapter 16

PARKER

I stared down the barrel of my pistol Deacon had fixed on my head. He must have pulled it from my holster during the struggle. I looked back at the doorway and my eyes met Claire's. Then the door shut and she was pulled away from me, still screaming.

I gave in and the man on top of me loosened his grip on me. We were all breathing heavily, Deacon included. He touched a finger to his nostril where a thin line of blood trickled and looked at his finger. He laughed and lowered the pistol.

"Enough is enough. You've proven yourself worthy," he said as he set my pistol on his desk.

"Worthy of what?" I spat.

"Of joining us."

"What if I don't want to join you?"

All the amusement was gone from his expression now. "Then we kill both you and the girl. The choice is yours."

"Don't you want to run tests on me? I'm immune also," I tried, hoping they would take me where they took Claire.

He frowned and looked me up and down. "No. The tests are usually inconclusive. I'm just giving George and chance to... work out his frustrations. Besides, we could use you here."

A woman with short red hair entered then, glancing my way at first then speaking quietly with Deacon. He opened a drawer in his desk and handed her a large ring of keys. The man I had knocked off of me ripped my shot gun from around me. I was weaponless. My hands began to shake as I felt myself drifting from reality again.

Hold yourself together, hold yourself together...

"Mr. Dodds, please come with me," the woman said. "My name is Rebecca. If you'll kindly follow me, I'll show you to where you'll be staying while you settle in."

I stood and followed her out of the room. I had no other choice and I'd do whatever it took to keep Claire alive. Until I found her.

When we exited the building I scanned my surroundings quickly, hoping to see any sign of Claire, but there was nothing. I noticed, however, that the jeep was missing.

"Your vehicle and belongings have already been taken to your assigned dwelling," Rebecca informed me. "You won't be needing them while you're settling in."

Questions rose inside my mind, but I couldn't find the motivation to speak them aloud.

I followed her around the side of the building and to another door. Inside was a dimly lit staircase that seemed to go down forever. Darkness swallowed the hallway below, but with the beam of the flashlight Rebecca carried, I could see rows of heavy doors on each side of the hallway.

"What is this?" I asked.

Rebecca continued down the hallway, counting the doors, then stopped in front of one. She took the key ring and unlocked the door, swinging it slowly open.

I peeked inside. The room was tiny, dark, and the faint smell of urine and feces wafted from it. I looked at her expectantly and she gave me a small apologetic smile that rang somewhat false.

"You know when you get a new job? There's this grace period where your employers can fire you if you screw up." She glanced into the cell. "That's what this is. Your trial."

"How long," I muttered, looking into the maw of the tiny room, knowing I wasn't talking myself out of this.

"Depends," she answered, then turned to me with the flashlight. "I'm going to need your clothes."

"My clothes?"

She raised her eyebrows, waiting.

I stood motionless for a moment. Was she serious? The impatient look in her eye told me she was. I sighed heavily and pulled my shirt over my head, tossing it to her feet. Then I kicked off my boots and grimaced as my bear feet touched the cold cement. I unbuttoned my jeans next and threw them next to my shirt and shoes.