EXODUS — by Jeff Karamales |
Chapter 4 Wyatt Renner was led to an area that was labeled Group 1 and looked to have been carved out of solid rock and reinforced with concrete formations. The whole section was comprised of a large, open chamber with ten cells lining the circular wall. The cells themselves were of the most basic furnishings with a metal framed bunk that folded against the wall, a simple aluminum sink with only one spigot and a metal toilet. The last was a daunting prospect as the partitions that separated the cells from the rest were made from glassteel and afforded none of the private chambers any form of privacy. To top it all off there were three security cameras and a nook in the entry way for guards. Following the directions of his escort, Wyatt took the first cell, being the only one of the subjects up and moving while med techs in scrubs of dark green with grey trim on their chests and matching lab coats were busy waking the occupants of other transit tubes. The guards were dressed similarly to the ones that Wyatt had seen in prison and wore grey with black body armor. In all he found it more than a little foreboding when combined with the place he’d been brought to. He stripped out of his pink prison jumper after the restraints were removed and ordered to put on a sort of one piece garment where the top was held closed by a sort of belt. Likewise, his shoes were taken and he was given slippers that were of the same material as the new jumper. It was an off white and slightly padded to protect against the chill, but felt as if it were made from paper. He noticed that there was nothing on his new clothing that had anything metal on it. “Your clothing is disposable,” the green and grey trimmed tech told Wyatt with a tired sounding voice, though the furtive glances he gave the man said that there was already some intimidation because of what Wyatt was. “You’ll shower when told and receive new clothing and slippers afterwards. You’ll eat when you’re told and be in your cell when you aren’t in the lab or in an exercise period. Just do what you’re told and you stay alive.” Wyatt nodded and mumbled his understanding, blushing slightly as the guards and his keeper for the moment watched as he disrobed and redressed. His pink prison jumper was taken and put into a box with the word INCINERATE on the side, and to be completely honest, Wyatt wasn’t sad in the slightest to see the garment being taken away. The guards kept watch, armed with things that Wyatt had only seen in TV shows and movies, but he knew that the Kriss Vector submachine guns fired a .45 caliber round and were more than capable of shredding his flesh. Considering the sometimes tight confines of the bunker complex, it was a wise weapon choice and a single guard could clear a room or keep a hallway guarded no matter how many of his fellow prisoners tried to bust out at any given time. Their eyes seemed to be everywhere and seeing everything, and, still unsure of what was going on, Wyatt felt that while he might continuously be reassured that complying with what he was told would keep him alive, he doubted that he would ever make it out of the situation he found himself in. The medical technician gestured for Wyatt to enter the open cell and as soon as he was inside the glassteel partition swung closed with the audible clicking of the locking mechanism. With nothing else to do, Wyatt took a seat on the bunk as the others that would be occupying the other cells were brought in one at a time. There didn’t seem to be any order to whether the other occupants were brought in and separated by male or female, and he watched as the groggy men and women went through the same process of being stripped and issued the same clothing he was wearing and ushered into their cells. It had been a long enough time that Wyatt found his interest drawn to a few of the more attractive women, looking away only when one with dark green eyes and short auburn hair glared at him challengingly, actually stopping once her own prison jumper was peeled off and let the young man in the first cell get a good look at her naked body before throwing him a rude gesture of a single finger before pulling on her clothing. The man in the cell next to whistled shrilly, becoming a little too worked up and was cackling madly with propositions interspersed between his hooting until a pair of the guards entered his cell, batons that also turned out to be stunners in hand. Wyatt heard the thuds as the man was told to calm down, and when the orders were refuted, the batons were used with the intermittent sharp snaps of electrical discharges. It wasn’t the sounds of the beating that disturbed Wyatt and the woman across from his cell the most. The auburn haired woman looked on with a flat expression, though she winced a little toward the end. It was the guards’ expressions when they exited the cell that frightened Wyatt. They were the kind of men that enjoyed violence and it showed in the exhilarated gleam in their eyes and cruel grins of glee as the cell door shut and locked, the glances they cast about at the other prisoners showing that they had no qualms about doling out violence. Wyatt already knew they were expendable, especially following the greeting he received from the one named Lesko. Now he knew that this was a situation where there was no hope of rescue, no legal oversight to protect him and his fellow prisoners. As he’d been told, they had all been on death row for one reason or another, no one would miss them and as far as the world at large was concerned, they were all already dead. There was no way to tell if the schedule in the chamber followed a regular day and night cycle, though for Wyatt it seemed as if it did. Meals were delivered to the ten people in his Group three times a day with medical technicians taking vitals before and after each one. Of course the term ‘meal’ was far from an apt description. Each of them received what looked like military style ration packets that had different things in smaller packages that were tasteless, too soft or hard and were completely disgusting. After eating, they were taken one at a time to a separate chamber and run through different exercise machines while monitors were attached to their bodies at various points. Never mind that the exercises were performed in the nude and new clothing was only issued once the various prisoners were properly showered. When the lights in the chamber were lowered, they all went to sleep, the man in the cell next to Wyatt’s having learned after his third outburst that any balking only led to another round of beating. At least that served to keep Wyatt and the others compliant and to do what they were told. It went on like this for five days before Wyatt was taken once again to see Doctor Emily Lesko, firmly convinced that the whims of the frightening woman was the only thing keeping him and the others amongst the living. *** Emily looked up as Wyatt Renner was escorted to her office instead of the medical cubicle and motioned the man to a chair, the woman all but ignoring the guard. The men and women of Jannissaries LTD. were simply hired guns and bore no attention so long as they did their job. As far as the geneticist was concerned, it was her experiments that were worthy of her attention, and to that end, she needed things to go as smoothly as possible. She felt that Renner could help her with that. She’d watched the man via security feeds since he left the cubicle after his awakening and believed that out of all of the candidates that had been sent to her, Wyatt would more than likely be the most responsive to her overtures. It was Emily’s hope that he could make the others of his group, the only ones to be fully awakened and sequestered, more compliant. Of course, there was always the option of selecting someone at random and shooting them to make her point and drive home the realization that she was the one in charge. “Wyatt. Have a seat,” the woman directed, motioning to the chair on the other side of her desk. “Coffee?” Confused by the almost generous offer after her earlier threats, Wyatt nodded yes with a subdued, “Yes, ma’am.” He watched as Lesko filled a foam cup and set it in front of him. “There’s cream and sugar as well,” Emily said as she picked up her own cup. “Personally I prefer tea. I never did get used to the bitter taste of coffee.” “Straight black’s fine, ma’am.” Emily nodded and leaned back in her chair, her eyes appraising the man before her. “Wyatt, I need you to know that what we’re doing here is important,” she confided without preamble. “I’d like the coming months and what’s going to happen to go as smoothly as possible. There’s something about you that I like, and I would like to see you help me. I would like for you to try and convince the others of your Group to comply as well. Let them know that if they toe the line, I’ll be generous. Balk at what has to be done and I’ll be harsh. Do you think you can do that?” Wyatt glanced at the Doctor before regarding the rippling surface of the beverage in his hand. “I…I can try,” he offered, still unsure as to what was happening and why he and the others had been spared only to wind up where they were. “What would you like me to do?” “Talk to them. Tell them that cooperation is best for all of us. You know what will happen if any of you fail to do so.” “We’ll die,” Wyatt offered. Emily nodded. “Yes. That is correct.” The woman smiled coldly. “I’m even willing to make certain…concessions. Benefits for cooperating. Most people out in the world wouldn’t understand things the way you do, would they? How something as simple as eating a meal with others, how a little socialization can help one cope with terrible stresses. If you can get your Group to give me their full cooperation, I’ll allow you all to eat together and share one hour of social time.” Her smile grew cold and calculating. “I also see that you’ve noticed Julie Valance in the cell opposite you. A rather attractive young woman, don’t you think? Help me and I might see to it that the two of you can spend some time together. Would you like that?” Wyatt locked down the surge of rage that boiled in his chest, offering him the woman across from his cell to him like a broodmare being offered to a recalcitrant stud that had finally relented to being saddle broken. It was all the man could do not to crush the cup in his fingers. Even in high school he’d avoided having his actions dictated to him by his hormones, and had earned the reputation of being a nice guy. That hadn’t changed until his rampage in the nursing home his mother had been in. “I…I guess…” Wyatt acknowledged, reining in his anger and disgust. “Come now, Wyatt. Even some of the guards and other personnel here have mentioned that they’d like a turn with Miss Valance.” She leered at the young man. “Or do you prefer men, perhaps young boys?” “I’m no pederast!” Wyatt growled, lifting his head with a harsh look. “No, I suppose you aren’t. Despite the reasons for being on death row, you’re a decent fellow, aren’t you?” Emily said teasingly. “Boy Scout, went to church when you were younger, never got into trouble or even had a traffic ticket.” Emily chuckled but the sound was mocking, cold. “Still, you have urges, desires. And I know that she’s been watching you, despite the rather crude gestures she directed at you the first day she woke up. Would you like to know what she does when the lights go down? How she looks at you in your bunk and-” “I’ll help you,” Wyatt said quickly, not wanting Lesko to go into any more detail, though it confirmed his suspicion that they were all being watched at all times. Emily set her tea down and leaned back, her fingers steepling in front of her in an unconscious show of success and dominance as a smile stretched her thin, colorless lips into a smug grin. “Good. That’s precisely what I want. And because you’ve been a good boy, I’ll let you start enjoying your rewards starting with tonight’s meal.” She motioned to the guard to take Wyatt away then stopped them to add a little more to the conversation. “It truly is best if you help me. Soon you and the others of your group will be going through something unique. It would be best if you were able to face it with the others so you can support one another. But trials you will face, and I don’t really care if you do it as a group, or all alone so long as I get the cooperation that I want.” Wyatt was taken away after a negligent dismissal wave of Doctor Lesko’s hand and she paid no further attention to the man, though Emily did bring up the videos from the different cameras as he was led back to his cell. While she hoped he would be able to get the others to accept their fates, she was fully prepared to play her role as a cast iron bitch, something that she knew she did extremely well. As soon as the young man was safely ensconced in his cell, Emily summoned the guards to fetch the individual that appeared to be the most readily compliant out of Group 2 and readied herself to again play the role of generous benefactor. *** “I don’t care what Doctor Creepy says!” the man that was in the cell next to Wyatt’s snarled softly as the prisoners that comprised Group 1 sat around with their ration packets the next morning. “I’m all for getting’ outta this place!” Wyatt and the others had learned that the loudmouth that kept attracting the attentions of the guards was Gino Torrelli, a small time mobster that had far greater ambition than intelligence. He’d wound up on death row in New Jersey for a murder spree after finding his wife in a compromising position with one of his former associates. Torrelli had not only shot the two lovers, but went on to kill the man’s brothers in the belief that if he didn’t they would hunt him down forsome sort of vendetta. What had put the proverbial nail in his coffin had been the shooting and subsequent deaths of two Jersey State Troopers that had had the misfortune of pulling the small, swarthy man over on the Interstate highway. Gino Torrelli was brash, obnoxious and far too volatile in his interactions, and looked at women as being good for only one thing. Needless to say, Wyatt had his hands full keeping Gino away from the females of their Group. “Good luck with that, runt,” Julie snorted contemptuously. “What? Are you going to chew your way out through the rock and concrete? Maybe find a crack to scurry under, you little cockroach?” The retort that Gino shot back in an angry hiss was full of every possible derogatory term for a woman, but Julie let all of it slide past, as if the outburst was something she heard every day. “No broad talks to me that way!” the man barked in his thick street thug accent. He jerked his arm up as if he were going to backhand the young woman, shooting hostile glares when Wyatt and another of the males stood to head off any violence. The other man was Perry Layton, the tanned skin man flexing his biceps so that the loose sleeves of his clothing split as the overdeveloped muscles expanded threateningly. “Don’t talk to Julie that way,” the man warned. “And don’t hit no girls. I don’t like that.” Perry had been a farmhand that had gotten into a bar brawl in Kansas City. The brawl had begun when a few of the local toughs had thought they’d show how manly they were by ganging up on the large man. It wasn’t that Perry was simple or mentally deficient, but circumstances had forced him into abandoning his education to find employment in an attempt to help keep his multiple brothers and sisters fed and had entered the adult world with a fifth grade education. Wyatt actually found the giant to be rather insightful and exceedingly polite. Then again, the man had killed three people with a single punch each. Gino, looking up at the man that was easily a foot and a half taller, held up his hands in submission before sitting back down on the bench incorporated into the table and kept the glare of anger on his face though he only looked at the inexpensive picnic-ware that they had all eaten off of. When Wyatt looked to Julie, the woman was looking at him with a far less hostile expression, though he wouldn’t necessarily call it a friendly one. “You’ve talked to this woman a few times now,” the auburn haired young woman all but accused, “do you know why? Why all of us are here? What she wants us for?” Wyatt shook his head and let out his breath slowly in a half sigh. “I don’t know. But when she says that she’ll have anyone of us killed, I believe her. Lesko doesn’t give a damn about any of us except as the means for whatever experiments she has planned. I don’t know about you guys, but for now I see this as a chance to live. We’re all on borrowed time.” The others at the table looked thoughtful, but it was Julie that spoke first. “So, we cooperate, we get to live a little longer. I can’t see any way around that right now.” Gino got up from the table, dumping his plate and utensils in the trash bag provided before storming off to his cell, trying to stomp in anger but the slippers he wore made the fit of pique more comical than anything else. The others also got up save Perry and Julie. The giant because he really had nothing in common with the others, and because he saw Wyatt as the closest thing to a friend he had in the present situation while the man looked to Julie as one would a sister. He didn’t listen in on conversations or offer much in the way of opinions and neither Wyatt or Julie felt the need to discuss anything away from him. “Why do I get the feeling there’s something more that happened when you talked to the old hag that you’re not saying?” Julie inquired with a skeptical smirk. Wyatt shook his head. “I really don’t think I should tell you. Just believe me when I say that I really feel if we just do what they want us to we’ll be better off.” “You’re blushing, Wyatt,” Julie teased with a malevolent grin. “Now I’m really interested!” “Drop it, okay?” the man hissed hotly. “Let’s just work on staying alive, all right?” The young woman shrugged and took a sip of water through the straw of her cup in a nonchalant manner before speaking again, not looking at the man that had a cell across from hers. “So, you’re the Morning Star Murderer, aren’t you? Offed your mom and a whole bunch of other geezers, right?” When Wyatt jerked a little, the young man unsure how to take the comment, Julie looked up with a smile. “You were kind of a good guy before that. Well, at least according to some of the news shows I saw while I was waiting for my own date with death. They said you were running a charter boat out of Key Largo, sport fishing and scuba diving?” She smirked a little more. “Man, where were you when I was smuggling slag? I coulda used a guy with his own boat.” Before Wyatt could even think to comment the guards flickered the lights indicating that there was only five minutes before they entered the night cycle and anyone that wasn’t in their cell at that point would be beaten harshly. He made it to his cell with a minute to spare, reeling slightly from what Julie had said to him and even as he pulled the military surplus blanket over him as warmth against the permanent chill in the Group 1 chamber. It was more than a little sobering for Wyatt to realize that not long ago…had it only been a few days?...he’d been on a table to receive a lethal injection as the culmination of his death sentence and now he was in a situation that he still hadn’t been able to wrap his mind around. It was these thoughts chasing each other around in a maelstrom of confusion and emotion that kept him up for several hours after the lights were dimmed. |
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Unless otherwise noted, all material © Ted R. Blasingame. All rights reserved. |