The Wilds: The Wilds Book One (3 page)

Kevin and Rob, two more guards, walked down the hall doing head count and shutting us in our rooms as they went. They’d double back to whoever they were sleeping with after everyone was locked away.

They got to me, made a check on their clipboard and my metal door slammed, shutting me into the eight-by-eight room for the next sixteen hours, unless she called for me tonight like I expected.

There was a single window in my gray cell, ten inches by ten inches, but it didn’t open. There was a bed, a table and a chair. A bedpan was underneath every bunk for those who couldn’t hold it until morning. There were some pens and papers on the table but that was it. There were always pens and papers around. They encouraged me to put down my horrible thoughts but I’d never done it. I kept it all inside, locked up tight.

I flopped down on my bed and pulled out my new Moobie. My fingers ran over the leather cover as I opened it. I’d escape into Moobie’s world while I waited for the footsteps to come down the hall and drag me back into this world again.

Chapter Four

An hour after lockdown, the sound of feet hitting concrete as they walked in the otherwise silence of the hall reached me. It was Ms. Edith’s personal guards. I knew the visitor today would pique the Dark Walker’s interest. A sickness that had been building exploded in my stomach as I heard them getting closer.

I always prayed I was wrong, that they’d walk past, but the footsteps were always followed by the sound of a key in the lock. They opened the door to my room and stood there. They didn’t need to say anything and I didn’t fight them. I got up from my bed without any hint of how I dreaded what was to come, shoulders square.

We walked down the corridor, one guard in front of me and one behind. I didn’t know their names. Her guards didn’t last too long. I wasn’t sure what happened to them and didn’t really care either. They only had one work detail and that was handling the Dark Walker’s business.

I used to resist but it hadn’t made any difference. I actually thought some of the guards enjoyed the struggle. I hadn’t for the last year, not since it had dawned on me that as much as I dreaded what was to come, my opportunity to escape might also lie in these moments.

The less I fought, the more and more lax they were becoming. One of these times, I’d get my opening.

We walked across the compound through the maze of halls and I was always amazed in these moments just how massive this place really was, what lay down some of these other hallways. We made it to the other side of the building to a set of doors that led to her dominion.

This was where the bile would start to rise in my throat, not that I’d let on to the guards. No matter how many times I’d been through this, I still dreaded it. When I was being honest about it, I knew it was fear I felt. I might have hated that most of all, being afraid. No matter how I tried to talk myself down in my head, diminish it as just a short period of pain, I could never totally get rid of the feelings.

The guard in front opened the doors and we walked through into the part of the compound that was off limits to most. I heard the guard behind me lock them after us.

This was when it got the toughest. When I wanted to turn to them and beg them to let me leave. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the words that wanted to come.

I’d done it when I was younger. Begged. Groveled. Humiliated myself to them, on my knees with a mixture of tears and snot running down my face.

It hadn’t mattered. Had somehow made it worse afterward. Now it wasn’t just the pain I faced when I came here but humiliation as well. I’d always remember how pathetic I’d been. I’ve heard pride is a sin. In my book, begging is worse.

But that was a long time ago. I hadn’t begged for help in years and wouldn’t. It didn’t matter what they did to me. I could get past the pain but I’d never forget grabbing on to a guard’s leg and the embarrassment of getting backhanded for messing his pants with a mixture of my tears and snot. Or the laughter that followed when I’d peed myself in fear.

We came to the room, the heavy metal door gliding open silently. This one was always well oiled. A single wooden chair sat in the center with straps attached to it. It reminded me of the electric chair I remembered seeing a picture of once.

I wasn’t the first Plaguer to sit in this chair. I knew they’d killed my kind here. Some of the guards talked, especially to the girls they were sleeping with. Ben, Margo’s guard, had even warned her in a weak moment. He’d said to tell me to give them whatever they wanted when they brought me here. That they’d kill me if I didn’t.

He was wrong. I’d already be dead.

I crossed to it of my own accord and sat in the chair, not fussing at all as they bound my wrists and legs with thick leather straps with buckles. This was where the Dark Walker would interrogate me.

I’d endure what was to come and I’d survive it. Hopefully, an opportunity might present itself afterward. As much as this part of the compound didn’t look that different than the rest, just more painted cement, there was one very important difference. There was a window in here, large enough for a body to squeeze out of, and it opened. I’d seen the latch. There were no bars in front of this one like all the rest, or anything else to impede my escape.

Six months ago, after I’d awoken from what she’d done to me, I’d found myself alone in this room but I’d been unprepared for the opportunity. I wouldn’t be again. If I’d acted quick enough, I might have gotten out of here. But I’d sat too stunned to even try and escape the chair before they walked back in.

After I was strapped in, they hooked up the device that would send shocks through my body. They were just finishing as Ms. Edith entered. She wore her dark hair in the same bun but had switched her jacket to a white lab coat, as if she were some sort of doctor. God, I hated her most of all.

One of the guards placed a chair several feet in front of mine and she walked over and sat upon it as if it were a throne. Then she smiled. She always did, as if we were old and dear friends. I couldn’t get memories from Dark Walkers but I didn’t need them. She enjoyed these sessions.

“Hello, Dal,” she greeted me, using my nickname. I wasn’t sure why that burned me worse than anything else. One day I’d punch her in that same mouth that she used to speak to me as if she really knew me.

“Hello,” I greeted in response, holding back my own anger.

The guard finished attaching the torture device to me and handed her a small box with a wire that ran to where I sat. It had a dial on it and a button. It was simple but effective. I knew the higher that dial went, the more likely I was to die.

“Leave,” she said to the guards. We both watched them walking out, her with enthusiasm and me with dread.

I knew what came next.

“You had a visitor today,” she said as she toyed with the dial.

I didn’t answer. She wasn’t asking, just stating the topic of today’s interrogation.

The thing was, I knew there was no way to escape the pain today, even if I told her everything she wanted to hear, but my mind still scrambled for a way out. I hated it. It made me feel like an animal.

Her fingers toyed with the dial again. I didn’t look directly at it, knowing she wanted me to. She wanted to see the fear I withheld from her.

It didn’t matter where she’d dialed it up to anyway. The lower settings would be more bearable but last longer. The higher settings would bring oblivion quicker, but eventually, it always came. I’d almost never left this room on my own two feet. There were only a handful of times that I had in the years I’d been here, and those were only due to outside interruptions. Now these sessions were held at night. There was nothing like a pesky work call to disrupt a good torture.

My eyes flickered to the dial before I could stop myself. She looked at me, smiling.

“So, let’s start with what you said to your visitor today.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs while I was nearly immobile. The gesture wasn’t lost on me.

I relayed the conversation verbatim to her, seeing no point in bothering to withhold any of it. The visiting room was rigged for sound, another Ben tip. Plus, she didn’t want to know what was said. She wanted to know what I’d seen.

“Was there anything else?” she asked. “Did you get one of your hallucinations?”

That was the thing about Plaguers; even though I hadn’t heard anything else, which was the truth in the visitor’s case, no one believed me anyway. I debated when to feed her the lie. I needed to survive this session and how ever many more it took to get out. But if I made it too easy, she wouldn’t believe my made-up story. I’d made that mistake before.

“No,” I said.

The pain shot through me and my body jerked with it. I didn’t cry out. Maybe I should’ve but I fought against it. I could only give them so much of myself before I’d have nothing. The hurt stopped and I slumped against the straps that held me in place, my breathing louder than it had been.

“Dal, you know holding back just prolongs this. Why do you want to make it harder on yourself?” Her fingers went to the dial, creeping it up until I knew it had to be near the danger zone.

“You’re right.” I knew she was getting close to hitting the button again. Time to lie. She was more impatient today than normal.

“So why don’t you tell me what you saw? You need to tell me about the delusions you have so that I can help you.” Her voice was soft and pleading, as if that was all she ever wanted to do.

I blurted out the lie I’d come up with earlier, about him killing his coworker. It was a joke, since I didn’t even believe he worked for the government. By time I was done, she seemed pleased with herself.

She leaned forward, her hand coming to rest on my knee like a concerned guardian. “You know these are delusions, right? They don’t mean anything.”

“Yes,” I said, placating her.

“So let’s talk about what you see when you look at me. Do you have any visions of me? Do you see anything differently?” She leaned back again in the chair, hand on the dial.

She knew I did, or highly suspected. This was all a game with her and the winner was predetermined. Sometimes I wondered what would happen if I told her the truth, but that survival instinct that I relied on so heavily always stopped me.

“I see nothing.”

The smile came and the knob turned. “You’re sure? Nothing at all?”

I shook my head.

“Now, Dal, I know you’re lying. You could stop this if you’d just be honest with me. You need to tell me so I can help you. I don’t want to hurt you. But you’re only giving me one option.”

Even if I got out of here tomorrow and lived a thousand years, the hate I had in my heart for her would never dim. Sometimes in these moments, it swelled so large I feared the hate might one day take over everything I was. “I see nothing.”

Her hand went to the control and the pain shot through me.

I must have been wavering in and out of awareness for a while, but when I finally came to, it was only me and one guard in the room. She was gone and so was the other one.

He stepped in front of me and our eyes met. As far as mental scars, he wasn’t the worst I’d ever experienced, a bad beat-down before leaving the person to die. At least I could feel the remorse with this guard.

He put a finger to his lips. “Don’t say anything and close your eyes. I’m supposed to call her when you come around.”

“Let me go,” I said, sensing the opportunity that came from this man’s inner conflict. “Just loosen a strap and leave the room. That’s all I need.”

He hesitated just long enough for a tiny flare of hope to flicker within me before he shook his head and snuffed it out. “Can’t do that. I let you go and I’ll be the one sitting in that chair tomorrow,” he said, getting angry at the request.

“You just need to loosen it. That’s all,” I said, weighing the chance of pressing him to further anger against the potential of getting to him to help. “No one has to know you did anything.”

“She’s up?” the other guard said as he appeared in the door, and I knew the possibility of enlisting any aid had gone from struggling to drowning. The guard who’d just arrived had some ugly shit in his head and not a drop of remorse to be found.

“Yes. Was just going to go get her,” the guard said, referring to Ms. Edith.

“She’s going to need a few minutes. She’s on a call.” The recent arrival walked farther into the room and took the seat Ms. Edith had left open. He reached down and picked up the control box that sat by the foot of the chair.

“Mark, we aren’t allowed to touch that,” the nice-ish guard said.

“Chill out, Bruce. Who’s going to know?” Mark played with the dial, bringing it up to where I knew one quick press of the button would kill me.

“Stop playing with that. She dies and Ms. Edith is going to be pissed. This is the last one we have left,” Bruce said.

He had to mean Plaguers. It was true. I was the last Plaguer left in the compound. Larissa had disappeared two years ago, probably died in the chair I now sat in. I often forced the thought of her from my mind, like I did now, because we all had a limit on what we could tolerate before we broke. I couldn’t break.

“But why does that bitch get to have all the fun?” Mark was leaning back, holding the control and looking at me like I was a treat to eat.

If I showed fear, it would egg him on. That was what happened to the others he’d killed. His corrupt spirit fed on fear and he’d gotten carried away. One murder had turned into five. I couldn’t panic. I’d gotten so close; there was no way I could die now. Not here.

The other guard made a reach for the box but the asshole yanked it backward and away.

“Stop fucking around with that. You can’t do it full blast. You’ll kill her for sure,” Bruce said when he’d been unable to get the control from him.

“I don’t know about that. She’s taken more than any of the others and she’s still alive.”

“How do you know what she’s taken?” Bruce asked.

“Just because you don’t like to listen in doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“Doesn’t mean she’ll be able to this time. You answering for her death? ’Cause I ain’t.” Bruce eyed the control, looking for an opening to snatch it away.