Now, with both hands gripping a severed digit, Jack returned to the door. He tried the thumb first. He figured it was least likely to be the one, and he wanted to eliminate it. The red light flashed and the unit beeped.
Jack set the thumb down and tried his last hope. He flubbed the swipe and the red light flashed once, with no noise. He took a deep breath, exhaled and then tried again. Jack dropped the finger in his excitement when the light flashed green. He heard a distant buzzing and a light “click” near the door handle.
With no thought about the consequences, Jack reached out and pulled open the door. As the door opened, Jack had a brief glimpse of a tall figure on the other side, silhouetted by bright lights. Two metal probes shot out from the figure. Jack heard a tiny explosion from the man’s Tazer, followed by a crackle that seemed to come from inside Jack’s head.
Just before his neck tightened, Jack’s gaze flew to his own chest where a red dot, centered on his heart, was framed by two metal spikes trailing tiny wires.
CHAPTER 21
The Boy
The man stalked down the hall. The boy barely registered the approach of his pursuer. Some deep part of the boy’s brain still harbored hope and for one absurd moment he wished the man would walk right by. That hope died as the man drew alongside the boy and stopped. The man bent down and grabbed the boy’s ankles.
The boy slumped as the man dragged him by the ankles away from the wall. His head flopped back and struck the floor; he looked up into the bright lights. They burned blue and yellow negatives on his eyes. He couldn’t see any of the man’s features — the glare and after-image were still affecting his eyes.
With one hand, the man lifted the boy by the collar of the the lab coat. The man grabbed his shoulders and turned him around, pushing him towards the door. Reaching over the boy’s shoulder, the man opened the door. The door swung open to reveal an exam room; either the same one the boy had been trapped in before, or one exactly like it.
The deep part of the boy’s brain, buried under layers and layers of numbness, acknowledged the exam room and registered no surprise.
The man's rough hand pressed the boy forward and he zombie-walked towards the chair. The man moved him like a puppet, sitting him down and arranging his limbs in the chair before strapping him down. Back in the man’s chair, the boy felt an urge to protest — he had come so close to escaping, and could have tried his luck at the window. His urge to fight began to rekindle as the man tightened the straps. Despite this new activity deep in his thoughts, the boy’s expression remained slack and lifeless.
“I know what you’re thinking,” said the man.
Now the boy wanted to struggle, but his limbs felt far away and foreign.
“I’ve seen it all before. You came really close. I thought you were going to be the one. We could have learned a lot from each other.”
In his desperation, the boy finally found his own voice.
“Wait,” said the boy. “You lied to me before.”
The man grew serious, and answered slowly — “I told you exactly what I needed to tell you.”
“You said I would forget all this some day, and that it would be okay. But now you’re going to hurt me, aren’t you?” the boy asked.
“That’s very astute,” said the man. “You get bonus points for paying attention, but I’m afraid they’re not going to help you much.” He paused and gathered his thoughts. “If you had passed all the tests, you would have remained unscathed. Unfortunately, you’ve failed today, and that means I have no more use for you.”
“Then why am I still strapped to this chair?” asked the boy.
“I follow a method,” explained the man. “Strapping you to the chair is part of that method. It’s like when your mom tells you to fasten your seatbelt, but you’ve already got it on. She can’t help saying that — it’s a compulsion. I’m the same way with this chair.”
The boys eyes darted left and right, while he tried to figure out how the man knew about his mom. She always told him to buckle up, even after he'd just done it. That was one of their private jokes. He wondered how long the man had been spying on him, or perhaps if he could just read minds.
“I can’t read your mind,” said the man. “If that’s what you were wondering.”
The man walked past the boy and pulled open a drawer. Straining to look over his shoulder, the boy saw the man drawing clear liquid into a syringe.
“So, what are you going to do to me?” asked the boy.
“Well,” the man walked back to the boy and held up the syringe, “this is going to put you to sleep. Then, I’m going to move you to that tub and bleed you out.”
“Why?” asked the boy. His voice wavered.
“Honestly, you’re just not the one I wanted, so now I have to get rid of you and move on to the next one,” replied the man.
“I can be the one you want,” said the boy. “Just tell me what to do.”
“I can’t tell you how to be a fearless predator,” said the man. “I might as well tell you to be a different species.”
“But you said I came really close,” said the boy.
“You did. You escaped when you were supposed to, evaded me, killed that cat. You did almost everything. But I needed to see that extra bit of ruthlessness,” said the man.
“Just give me one more chance,” said the boy. “I’ll do it right.”
“Okay,” said the man. “Just this once.”
The man grabbed the boy’s wrist and pulled his arm to straighten it. A vein popped up on the boy’s arm, and the man pierced it quickly and accurately with his needle. A second later and the boy felt a warm flood spill over his senses.
“Why?” asked the boy again. He meant to ask more, but it was all that would come out.
“There’s no second chance,” said the man as he pulled out the needle.
The boy felt himself slipping away.
CHAPTER 22
Stephen
Stephen ran out of the exam room and then away from the dead man to his right. He clutched the knife with the tip facing down. He saw several doors down the hall and reached one on the right first.
The door opened inward and had a light switch on the wall next to the frame. Stephen pushed open the door and then flicked on the lights. A single bare bulb lit up a storage closet. Gray metal shelves lined one wall and held stacks of big bottles. To him they looked like large bleach bottles like the one his mom kept in their laundry room.
He shut the closet and moved down down the hall. Stephen didn’t want to get boxed in to a small space. The next door looked serious — big, solid, and metal, but it was locked.
A few feet down, a door was cracked open. Stephen pushed it open and immediately backed up, closing the door again. He remembered that smell. It was the smell of the gas that had made him pass out. He cracked the door enough to feel around the corner and found a switch on the wall. When he flipped the switch, lights came on in the room and he pushed the door open but he stayed in the hallway.
He saw the pole and the cage. He pulled up his shirt to cover his mouth and nose and stepped into the room. The gas wasn't nearly as strong, and barely made him light-headed. The pole was no help to him. He gave it a try, but couldn't even climb the rope in gym class, so he didn't expect to get anywhere. The room had no other obvious exits.