Chapter Fourteen: Flucht

Chapter Fourteen: Flucht

                I’ve probably been waiting in the monotonous gray room for hours, now. Thinking about what he said. When he left the room, I was a complete and utter wreck for at least fifty-seven minutes. Sam’s locked up somewhere, my family is probably looking for me, Phoenix too, if he’s out of the hospital yet, I’m trapped in a situation that stabs me on either side and the sheets are FUCKING GRAY! I rip them off of the mattress and fling them across the room in a sudden fit of wrath, breathing heavily.

                A buzz comes from intercom on my nightstand. “Do not defile our property.”

                I pick up the intercom and I slam that against the wall too, shattering the little white box into tiny pieces.  “Fuck you.”

                I sit on the de-robed mattress and think. I only have three options. My hands automatically search for a pen and paper. Writing down your options in a situation like this makes it easier to choose which one.  I fumble through the drawers in my nightstand and am surprised to come across a lot of paraphernalia. And old coke bottle cap, some safety pins, ponytails, an old book…

                These must be the things left behind by other prisoners that have lived here.

                Okay… but why haven’t they confiscated their belongings? Why leave them here for me to see?

                My guess is to spook anyone that lives here. It means there’s no escape. You’ll turn into one of them or die.

                Thanks for the confidence booster. My fingertips connect with a familiar shape, so I pull it out. A pink sharpie pen. Perfect. There’s no paper, so I walk to the blank gray wall opposite the bed, and write.

               

Option One: Die

       Option Two: Become Them

       Option Three: Escape

       To be frank, I’d rather not go with Option One. Or Option Two, for that matter. But Three? When I’m locked in this room and surrounded by monsters?

                And then it hits me. I have telekinesis. I drop the Pink Sharpie and scuttle to the locked metal door and put my hands on the knob. I push. And pull. And push some more. Nothing. I crease my eyebrows and concentrate on the tiny metal bubble. Just willing it to break, loosen, unlock, something. A bead of sweat condenses at the back of my neck. I wipe it away quickly and return my fingertips to the knob.

                Harder than it looks, no?

                Shut up.

                I would encourage your actions if I didn’t know that what you’re doing is impossible. My subconscious smirks at me.

                You’re really not helping.

                Fine, fine. I’ll leave.

                Thank you. I concentrate on the knob once more.  Maybe if I think about something that makes me angry, I’ll be able to control it. All the times that I’ve used my power have been the result of anger, or instinctual self-defense. Sam’s lifeless eyes come to mind. My forehead wrinkles in pain. But it’s not enough to break the knob. I think of Annie, home alone with nothing but my goodbye-note to comfort her. My knuckles whiten. Phoenix’s blood oozing into dirt. Melanie’s taunts. Cotter’s assault. Blood red eyes. Their eyes.

                The knob convulses under my fingers and molds into the shape of my hands like play-dough.

                “Yes!” I push the doorknob through the opening and it clatters on the hard floor on the other side of the door. “Shit…” I flinch. Did I make too much noise? If they capture me-

                When. When they capture you.

                What will They do when they capture me? I know I’m important to Them, somehow. They can’t just kill me, right?

                No. But they’ll kill Sam. And then force you to join them.

                I take a deep breath and open the massive metal door, anyway. I look down the hallways, left, right, and left again like I’m some little kid crossing the street.

Stop, Look, Listen.

                No one is there. I take a timid step out into the open. I know this may sound ridiculous, but it is very hard to walk when you’re legs are shaking and feel like Jell-o. But I can’t stop thinking of one of Them hiding behind the next corner. It really is the worst feeling.

                I flinch every time I take another step. The sound of the plastic bottoms of my shoe hitting the metal floor echoes and sounds so loud. I pace through the corridor with an uneven feeling in my empty stomach. If they find me, I’m dead, or worse, I’ll be turned into one of the. Sam would be killed, and hell, they might even knock off my whole family while they’re at it.

                Especially Aunt Jeane. She’s the one they’re really after.

                I heard a creak abouve me and jumped.

                “only the airvents.” I whispered to myself. “Calm down!” my voice was so low I swear I didn’t even speak. Wait, that wasn’t in my head-

                Got that right.

                -It was coming from a door I just passed. I pweered through a window set in the door without considering the consequences. I saw the boy that came into my room this morning, his brown hair and clear skin gave him away. And the gashes on his face. Why isn’t he wearing his hood?

                One of them, cloaked in the usual dark hood and demonour, was placing a cloth over the wounds.

                “How could you let this happen?” the dark on esaid.

                “You told me it was a possibility.” The boy spoike back, wincing as his cuts closed by the touch of the cloth.

                “Yes, so you would be prepared. You are stronger than her, Lucas. You have disgraced our name.” The dark figure turned and walked thorugh another set of door in the room. I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God he didn’t have to go through the door I’m peering behind. Then Lucas looks at me. Straight at me, his eyes penetrating mine. I’m suddenly paralyzed by his stare.

                But he doesn’t shout ‘Escaped! The prisoner has escaped!’ like I expected him to. He turns and walks a few paces to open the door. I take many steps back, and he continues to hold my gaze. My back presses up against a wall.

                “How did you get out?” He whispers calmly.

                I lift up my trembling hands. He nods. That’s all the explanation he needs. He takes my hand and I yelp in surprise at the rough callouses on his fingers. He puts a finger over his lips and shakes his head. I snap my jaw shut as he leads me down the desolate hallway.

                After a few minutes my hand starts to sweat in his and I’m feeling a beit anciety.

                “Where are you taking me?”

                “To that boy you love so much,”

                I let go of his hand. “I don’t love him.”

                He raises an eyebrow but keeps walking, motioning for me to follow him. I have no choice.

                As we silently walk from corridor to corrider, the cold grows even colder. We must be heading for the cells.    

                What if he’s taking you there?

                No. They need me, right?

                Ya. As bait for your aunt.

                Liar.

                Consider the possibilities.

                I realized it was true. Back in the interviewing room, my interrogator talked of nothing but my Aunt Jeane. What if she’s on her way here to rescue me?

                Or trade.

                What are you talking about?

                A trade. She’ll be willing to trader her life and powers for yours. Because she loves you.

                I gulp in some air, trying to calm myself so I don’t hyperventilate in front of Lucas. He would throw me in a cell just for being an idiot.

                “We’re almost there.”

                “Where?”

                “Mr. Reethe’s cell.”

                “Sam’s close?” My eyes light up. If they hurt him…

                “Yes,” Lucas puts a finger to his lips. “be quiet. There usually isn’t anyone patrolling this area, but there is a chance.”

                My mouth snaps closed once again, but questions are threatening to burst from my lips like rabid dogs after meat.

                “Why are you helping me?” I blurt.

                Lucas scoffed darkly, and doesn’t answer. Instead, he  stops at a large metal door much like the others. He places his palm on the door and a small green button appears, seeming to float in midair from an invisible lens. He presses the button and the door automatically unlocks. He gives me a sad look before pushing the door open to reveal Sam chained to a chair. The chains are thick and unbreakable.

                “Sam!” I slip under Lucas’ arm and rush to him, my converse applauding against the cement floor. “Sam. Sam?”

                He’s passed out. Probably from the pain. There’s a stream of blood falling from his wrists.  He’s tried to escape many times. His wrists and ankles are rubbed raw from the chains. The old wounds on his chest left from my fingertips from that horrible spectacle in the woods ooze red and yellow liquid.

                I take the rim of his filthy shirt and pull it up, the cloth almost glued to his skin. His wounds are badly infected. Sam’s veins around his chest pulse an unnatural purplish color. Blood poisoning.

                “Sam, wake  up… please.” I lift his chin, and his eyes squeeze before snapping open, a silent scream in his throat. “Please, you need to teleport us out of here.”

                “He won’t be able to use his powers in this building.” Lucas says. “He looks too weak, anyway.”

                “Then how could I use mine?” I snap at him, frustrated that we’re going to have to escape this place on foot, and with a shifty guide, at that.

                “I’m not sure…” Lucas shifts from foot to foot.

                Well I’m not about to waste time theorizing. “Lucas, how do I get this off?” I rattle the chains. Lucas glances nervously behind his shoulder before leaning down over Sam to unlock the chains with a key. He slides them off and throws them across the room.

                 I rub the skin around Sam’s wrists and ankles, forcing circulation into his limbs.

                “Hurry.” Lucas says, grabbing Sam under his arms and lifting him up like a baby. “I’m not authorized to enter this room. My superiors must already know I’m in here.”

                My eyes grow wide. “Lead the way.”

                We dash out of the cold and damp cell, Sam in Lucas’ arms. His eyes have opened and are frantically staring at the ceiling, the irises wide and full of fear. As we’re running through hallway after hallway, I grab for Sam’s hand and hold it tight.

                “We’re okay, we’re okay,” I mumble in a mantra. Sam’s eyes finally find mine and he seems to relax; his fingers do not grip me as strongly.

                “Eneile…”

                “I’m right here.” I whisper.

I expected our escape to be a lot more… noisy. There’s no alarm blaring, or the sounds of angry shouts  in the distance, only the soft patter of Lucas’ and mine’s feet on cement.

“We’ll have to go out a back door.” Lucas says, looking left, then right, before deciding on the left and sprinting down it, me lapping at his heels.

“Will there be any of them at the back door?” I breathe. Hard. Lucas runs fast.

“I don’t know-”

“You don’t know!?” I whisper-shout. I’m dead.

“Here it is-” Lucas stops running abruptly and I almost run straight into him. It’s a normal, metal door, identical to most of the doors in this building. Except I can see sunlight through the window set in the door. Lucas takes a deep breath and shoves through the door on his side, still holding Sam in his arms. I quickly follow after him, and shut the door behind me.

Lucas isn’t running. Why isn’t he running? Lucas’ long black cloak shades my eyes, so I stand on my tiptoes and peer over his shoulder.

“Hello.” The cloaked figure emerges from behind an old tree. I recognize the voice. From my first nightmare about them. “I’m Vassago.”

                                End of Chapter of Chapter Fourteen.