“Dr. Cylon, should we stick to the original plan for the boy?” Rich said, coming up to stand next to her.
She eyed Ash carefully and my heart slammed in my chest, beating a rhythm against my ribcage. “No, no, I don’t think so.” Her eyes met mine and a smile crept across her face. “I think for now, I’d prefer to keep Mr. Matthews around. He might work as great…motivation for Ms. Valentine.”
The sinking feeling in my stomach multiplied as I realized what she meant. Ash and I looked at each other. They would not kill him, not yet, and now it was up to me. My compliance would be the only thing keeping him alive. The men holding him nodded in understanding and started pulling him away.
“No,” I said, struggling against the large hands holding on to me. “No, please, don’t take him, please. I’ll do whatever you want, just please don’t hurt him.”
“It is far too late for that, Zoey,” Razi said, her voice clipped and brisk. “But I love your attitude change.”
I watched helplessly as they dragged Ash down the hallway. He struggled, trying as hard as he could to break free of their grip. They pulled him to the elevator. His hands gripped the doors as they began to close. I strained against my own hold, but it was useless. I wasn’t moving. “Ash!”
“Zoey! Zoey!” Ash’s voice echoed through the hallway, and I was desperate. I was dreading the doors closing, that watching him being dragged away would be the last time I saw him, that it would be the last memory I ever had of him.
“Ash!” I looked at Razi, fury blazing on my features. “Stop them!” I screamed.
Ash’s fingers were slipping as the doors for the elevator began to close. “Zoey! Zoey, I…”
The doors of the elevator slammed shut, and then there was silence.
I AWOKE ONCE MORE IN the same room that I had been before, but this time I woke to an eerie silence. The machines were still there making soft noises, but there was a distinct lack of people. The lights were dimmed. I moved to sit up and noticed something else; I was not strapped down as I was before. I blinked in surprise at my hands and pushed myself off the chair.
The floor was cold under the soft fabric of my socks as I moved quietly toward the door. I reached for the handle, but it failed to turn under my palm. I was locked in. I should have known better. I sighed. Leaning against the door, I took a look around my surroundings.
The room was fairly large, much larger than it had seemed before, with several people inside of it. The chair sat in the middle of it, surrounded by several clean, smooth, empty counters. There was a sink in one corner, and a shower in the other, with no curtain or door for privacy. Most of the machines that had been beeping earlier were gone, but there were still a few, including the large touchscreen.
I crossed the room toward it, pressing my fingers to it. The screen came immediately to life, sending brightness into the room. There was only one option to press, the epitaph of the lioness woman, so I selected it gently. A request for a password immediately popped up, and I sighed in disappointment.
A smell reached my nose, and I squinted around the room. There was a tray I hadn’t noticed before, just beside the chair. It looked like what you got when ordering room service at a hotel. I moved over to it, my stomach rumbling. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had eaten. I lifted the cover and was surprised to find a full meal there; a lightly seasoned chicken breast, a pile of peas and chopped carrots, and a mound of mashed potatoes covered in a dark gravy. My stomach rumbled again. When was the last time I had eaten a full meal like this?
I reached for the fork that lay on the tray beside it and was halfway to scooping up the mashed potatoes when I paused. This food had come from somewhere within this facility, and I trusted no one in here. It could have been poisoned or filled with a serum that made me grow an extra arm or something. My eyes darted around the room, and I finally noticed it, the small black globe on the ceiling in the corner of the room, the camera. I looked at the food again longingly and forced myself to put the fork down. I could not give in so easily.
A few hours later, it was proving to be more difficult than I thought.
There was nothing to do, nothing but count the ceiling tiles or trace patterns in the speckled tile on the floor. I walked back and forth; I sang songs; I did everything I could without going crazy. I had no concept of time. I had no way of knowing how much time had actually passed. No one came to my room. There wasn’t a peep except for the now familiar hum of the machines housed with me. I worried about Ash, and I avoided the tray of food, pretending like it was not even there.