Liz shivered as the air conditioner hummed, sending a blast of icy air in her direction. Wrapping her arms around herself, she closed her eyes and waited for it to pass. The scent of chlorine drifted on the air, its chemical reek setting her head to pounding. Her teeth chattered and she shuddered as the whir of fans died away. Groaning, Liz opened her eyes and returned to studying her surroundings.
She had woken ten minutes ago in this thirty-foot-wide concrete room. A single door stood closed on the opposite wall, a small glass panel revealing a bright hallway beyond. It appeared to be the only exit, but it might as well have been half a world away. Between Liz and the door stood the wire mesh of her five-foot by five-foot steel cage.
Trembling, Liz gripped the wire tight between her fingers and leaned her head against it. She tried to search the vaults of her memory, to recall how she had come to be there, but her last recollection was of serving beer to a drunken customer in Andrew's pub.
A curse slipped from her lips as the blast of the air conditioner returned. Without her jacket, her clothes were no match for whatever freezing temperature the climate control had been set to. To make matters worse, her boots were gone, and the concrete was like ice beneath her feet.
At least I'm not alone, she thought wryly, looking through the wire into the cage beside her.
A young man somewhere around her own eighteen years lay there, still dozing on the concrete floor. His clothes were better kept than her own, though there was a bloodstain on one sleeve. From the quality of his shirt, she guessed he was from the city. Pale skin, untouched by the scorching heat of the countryside, only served to confirm her suspicions.
Groaning, the young man began to stir. Idly, Liz wondered what he'd make of the nightmare into which he was about to awaken.
She shivered, not from the cold now, but dread. Casting her eyes around the room, she sought one last time for something, anything, that might offer escape. Long ago, her parents had warned her of the fate destined for those who drew the government's ire. Though never reported, disappearances had been common in her community. Adults, children, even entire families were known to simply disappear overnight. Few were brave enough to voice their suspicions out loud, but everyone knew who'd taken them.
It seemed after two years on the run, those same people had finally caught up with Liz.
The clang of the door as it opened tore Liz from her thoughts. She watched as two men pushed their way past the heavy steel door and stepped into the room. They wore matching uniforms of black pants and green shirts, and the gold- and red-embossed badges of bears on their chests confirmed Liz's suspicions—she'd been taken by government soldiers. The men were armed with rifles and moved with the casual ease of professional killers.
Liz straightened as their eyes alighted on her, refusing to show her fear. She suppressed a shudder as broad grins split their faces. Fixing a scowl to her lips, she crossed her arms and stared them down.
"Feisty one, ain't she?" the first said in a strong Californian accent. Shaking his head, he walked past the twin cages to a panel in the wall.
"Looks like the boy's still asleep," the second commented. "Gonna be a nasty wake-up."
Together, the men opened the panel and retrieved a hose. Thick nylon strings encased the outer layer of the hose, and a large steel nozzle was fitted to its end. Dragging it across the room, they pointed it at the sleeping boy and flipped a lever on the nozzle.
Water gushed from the hose and through the wire of the cage, engulfing the unconscious young man. A bloodcurdling scream echoed off the walls, and he seemed to levitate off the floor. Another cry followed as he thrashed against the torrent.
Liz bit back laughter as his scream turned into a gurgle. The men with the hose showed no such restraint, and their laughter echoed loudly in the confined space. Ignoring the young man's strangled cries, they held the water steady until it seemed he could not help but drown in the rushing water.
When they finally shut off the nozzle, the boy collapsed to the floor of his cage, gasping for breath. He shuddered, spitting up water, but the men were already moving towards Liz, and she had no more time to consider his predicament.
She raised her hands as the men stopped in front of her cage. "No need for that, boys. I'm already clean, see?" She did a little turn, her cheeks warming as she sensed their eyes on her again.
The men chuckled, but shook their heads. "Sorry girl, boss's orders."
They pulled the lever before Liz could muster up any other arguments.
Liz shrieked as the ice-cold water drove her back against the rear of the cage. She lifted her hands in front of her face, fighting to breathe, but it made little difference against the rush. Gasping, she choked as water flooded down her throat, and fell to her knees. An icy hand seemed to grip her chest as she inhaled again, turning away to protect her face. The power of the water forced her up against the wire, and she gripped it hard, struggling to hold herself upright.
When the torrent finally ceased, Liz found herself crouched on the ground with her back to the men. She did not turn as a coughing fit shook her body. An awful cold seeped into her bones as she struggled for breath. Water filled her ears and nose, muffling the words of the men, until she shook her head to clear it.
Tightening her hold on the wire, Liz used it to pull herself to her feet. Head down, she gave a final cough and faced the room.
The men were already returning the hose to its panel in the wall. They spoke quietly amongst themselves, but fell silent as the hinges squeaked again. A group of men and women entered the room. There were five in total, three men and two women. Each wore a white lab coat with black pants, and golden bears pinned to their collars. Four carried electronic tablets, their attention on the little screens, while the fifth approached the guards. They straightened as he stopped up in front of them, their grins turning to staunch grimaces.
"Are our latest subjects ready for processing?" the man asked, his voice cool.
One of the guards nodded. "Yes, Doctor Halt. We just finished hosing them down."
Halt smiled. "Very good." He dismissed the men with a flick of his hand and turned to face the cages.
Pursing thin lips, Halt paced around Liz's cage in a slow circle. His grey eyes never left her as he completed the circuit, and eventually she was forced to look away. He watched her like a predator studying its prey, eyeing up which piece of flesh to taste first. Wrapping her arms around herself, Liz fixed her eyes to the concrete and tried to ignore him.
When she looked up again, Halt had moved on to the young man in the other cage. But her fellow captive was ignoring the doctor, and was instead staring at the group of people in lab coats. His brow creased, as though struggling to recall a distant memory.
"You!" the boy shouted suddenly, slamming his hands against the wire. "You were at my house! What am I doing here? What have you done with my mother?"
Halt frowned, glancing back at the group of doctors. "Doctor Fallow, would you care to explain why the subject knows your face?"
The woman at the head of the group turned beet-red. "There were complications during his extraction, Halt." She spoke softly, but there was a challenge beneath her words. Goosebumps spread down Liz's spine as she recognized the voice, though she could not recall from where. "I had to enter before the subject was fully secured, or we risked further casualties amongst the extraction team."
Halt eyed her for a moment, apparently weighing up her words, before nodding. "Very well." He turned back to the cages. "No matter. Elizabeth Flores, Christopher Sanders, welcome to your new home."
Icy fear gripped Liz by the throat, silencing her voice. They knew her last name. That meant they knew who she was, where she came from. The last trickle of hope evaporated from her heart.
Christopher was not so easily quelled. "What am I doing here? You can't hold us like his, I know my rights—"
Halt raised a hand, and Liz's neighbor fell silent. Standing outside Christopher's cage, Halt stared through the wire. "Your mother has been charged with treason."
Color fled the boy's face, turning his skin a sickly yellow. He swallowed and opened his mouth, but no words came out. Tears crystallized at the corner of his eyes, but he blinked them back before they could fall.
Biting her tongue, Liz watched the two face off against one another. She was impressed by Christopher's resilience. He might speak with the accent of someone from the city, but he seemed to possess more courage than any of the boys she'd once known at her boarding school. If his mother had been accused of treason, it meant death for her and her family. The elderly would be afforded an exception, but her children…
Liz turned her attention to the group still lingering behind Halt. If that was the reason Christopher was here, she didn't like her chances. She had feared the authorities would come for her, and had done her best to avoid detection. But with government agents hiding behind every shadow, she had always known it was only a matter of when, not if, they found her. It seemed her time was finally up.
And yet, she needed to know: how much did these people truly know about her?