Page 21 of Fight for Us

Hushed voices and a muffled scream draw my attention. Pushing onto my elbow groggily, I peer around the cavern. Dread accumulates in my gut. I must only have a little time left before whatever they are doing to the others will be done to me. Torture? Death? I don’t know.

When I first arrived here, I still felt normal. I was still myself, just trapped. Now I feel hazy. My mind is cloudy and the harder I try to think about certain things, the hazier they get.

I count the cracks in the ground beside me. The cell isn’t very big, meaning my long frame takes up the entire space when I sit. It’s suffocating in here. My hunger’s gnawing at me, but it isn’t unbearable yet. They give me just an inch to survive, but not enough to be anywhere close to satisfied.

It feels like my brain is buffering, but there’s no internet signal down here. Like someone took an eraser to the edges of my thoughts. I start one thought and then forget the next. I begin to think about what I can do to escape, and what I’ll do once I’m free, but then everything slips away, like trying to hold onto sand.

Am I going mad?

I laugh. Not loud. Just a breathy, broken sound. My voice sounds strange. Croaky, like it hasn’t been used in a while. Maybe I deserve this. I exhale. There’s that thought again. That one comes back a lot.

I’m not a monster, but I’ve done inhumane things. I wanted this life. Once I learnt about it, all my thoughts went to control and power. I wanted it all. A few years in and I’ve learned that immortality doesn’t mean wisdom. It just means you’ve got more time to do stupid things.

I rest my head back against the wall and close my eyes. I hear them before I see them. The heavy footfalls of boots and the dirt and loose gravel crunching beneath them. A key rattles and the bolt creaks as the door swings open. I’m still seated on the floor when they enter.

They fill the doorway like shadows with their broad shoulders, thick arms, and faces hidden behind black-and-white masks. I scan over them, and as usual there are no logos, nothing particular that stands out about any of them or what they are wearing.

‘Back wall,’ one of them says. His voice is slightly distorted through the mask, flat and soulless.

I don’t move, because even when I’m rotting in a hole with no plan and no hope, I still want them to know when I choose to obey. I don’t want to make life easy for them.

‘I’ll shoot you in the head if you don’t move,’ one of the men growls, impatience thick in his voice, a vein in the side of his neck protruding.

‘Sounds better than sitting here, if I’m honest,’ I drawl.

‘We can do this the hard way,’ he snarls.

With purposeful slowness I drag myself to my feet and stagger to the back wall, sighing heavily. The tallest one steps in first. If there’s a leader among the group, it’s him. He carries a black case, which holds the needle filled with whatever they’re injecting into me. My stomach tightens at the thought of the poison that must be in there.

Why haven’t they killed me? What’s the purpose of these injections? Why do the others scream? Do they resist more than I do? Do they serve different agendas?

‘Hold still,’ another one says.

The cell door opens and I watch them like a hawk. My speed has most certainly been diminished. I’ve tried to dart past them a few times and it’s like trying to run when you’re dreaming. Like water surrounds me and lead fills my limbs.

My body moves. I sprint toward the slight space between two of them when the sound of a bullet rings through the air. It hits me square in the chest, completely immobilising me. A strangled croak escapes me as I crash back against the wall, barely able to stay on my feet.

‘You never fucking learn,’ the guy barks. I barely have time to blink before I feel the sting of the needle.

The cold rush hits my veins and feels like liquid ice cracking through every nerve. My vision flickers, the pain from the bullet radiating through me.

‘What is this shit?’ I gasp, head slumping forward. ‘What are you doing to me?’

The leader steps back. One of the others, shorter, maybe also younger, watches me closely. I think this is the one that Tara referred to as Jace. I wonder if he wants to know what I’ve said to her. Or what she’s said to me.

‘Why?’ I manage to choke out, my body growing painfully cold. ‘Why are you doing this?’

Jace turns, that eerie mask staring back at me. ‘You’ll know soon enough.’

The leader snaps the case shut and turns toward the door. They file out. The poison in my veins spreads slowly. Cold at first, then turning to liquid fire, before twisting into something that is somehow neither hot nor cold but numbing.

You’ll know soon enough.

8

TARA

The Host