The Insane Boy

Chapter 10 - Taken Again

To deny people their human rights is to challenge their very humanity.

- Nelson Mandela

They come minutes after the siren.

I have barely stood up when they are pounding on the door. Anna runs hurriedly over to open it and her eyes are wide as Guards with masks coving their faces barge unceremoniously into the house. They scan the room until their eyes land on me, standing there with a grey canvas bag in my hand and a blank expression on my face.

‘You do not require any possessions,’ one of the men says mechanically.

‘But the Doctor said–,’ I start, but he cuts me off.

‘Nothing but the clothes you currently wear is allowed into the Facility. All items will be disposed of.’ As he says this, one of the men walks forward and pulls the bag from my grasp.

In a second a much younger Guard is stepping forward, his gloved hands outstretched and set to grab me.

But I am ready. When he steps forward, I swiftly pound my fist into his nose, hearing the satisfying crunch as my knuckles connect with his flesh.

I don’t know why I am fighting this pointless fight, because no matter what I do, I cannot win. But I have to get it out. All the built up hatred and energy and confusion fuels me as I throw myself at the man again. He seizes my arm and I can feel the strength beneath his grip, but I hook my foot around his calf and he falls to the ground with a dull thud. I am about to grind my heel into his nose again, but a hand on my arm makes me pause. It’s a small hand; skin fresh and light.

I turn around to see June standing there, her face a mixture of exasperation and a barely suppressed smile.

‘You can’t knock the entire Facility out, you know. Your knuckles will get sore,’ she says, her voice full of mocking disapproval.

I look back over at the Guards. The others are helping the man to his feet. I don’t know why they didn’t interfere when I attacked him. They are muttering something vague about his age, and something about a novice. I almost mutter an apology, but I bit my tongue just in time.

But this time, they are all coming at me, a new determination lining their faces. I take a few quick steps back, and I quickly turn to June to wrap my arms around her, almost pulling her off the ground. She rests her head against my chest, and I feel her fingers slip something into my front pocket. She looks up at me, her eyes suddenly serious.

Then the Guards are wrenching me off her and dragging me out the door. I go silently, because now I can feel the raw strength in there arms. Even if I did fight, it would not end well. I caught the first one by surprise, and I wouldn’t have that advantage this time. They hold firm and I keep my chin up, because if I cannot fight I will at least go with some shred of dignity.

On the street, people watch from there houses. You can see them, peering out through their windows, trying to catch a glimpse of who is being taken. Nobody is outside, though, all safe in the confines of their little forts, as if nothing can touch them in there.

Stupid people. Nowhere is ever safe.

A van, the first vehicle I have seen since I arrived, is parked in the centre of the street. It is white and nondescript, windowless in the back and tinted windows in the front. The pull me round to the back of it and shove me onto the floor.

It is dark, but I can just see the metal benches that run up and down either side and the wide eyes that stare up at me. There is maybe 5 others in this van, all with there hands cuffed behind their backs and tied to a chain that runs along the floor.