flesh on my arm.
I whimper and jerk away. Liquid oozes from a popped blister and Tommy laughs. He swings the gun toward my other arm, but Bowen grabs it.
“Just leave the kid alone,” Bowen snaps. He shoves Tommy’s gun out of the tent.
“Whoa, man, you’re the one who needs to chill. You’re acting … sympathetic toward the Fec.” Tommy drops the tent flap and grumbles something I can’t quite make out.
Bowen shakes his head and crawls to my feet. Without a word, he pushes the hem of my jeans up around my knees and attaches the cuffs to my calves.
“Bowen, please don’t—” Before I can beg him not to restrain me, electricity hums and my legs snap together, the cuffs clicking against each other as they lock into place.
“I’m not going to cuff your arms. You’re welcome,” he retorts.
With my fingers I comb my hair out of my eyes and glare at him. “Thanks,” I whisper. He nods and tosses a wafer onto the floor beside me. And then he’s gone.
Anger and frustration bring the sting of tears to my eyes. All I want is to be back in my house, the way it used to be, inside a thirteen-year-old body, with Jonah doing his homework in themusic room while I practice the piano, and Dad in the kitchen cooking dinner, and Mom on her way home from work, and Lis coming home from college.
I glare at the wafer, feeling so sorry for myself I’m tempted to chuck it out of the tent and start the slow process of starving myself to death. But my stomach growls, feels concave, so I shove it into my mouth. It dissolves into the flavor of roast ribs and sweet potatoes and trickles down my throat. I close my suddenly heavy eyes and give in to the food-induced lethargy that steals the last bit of energy from my muscles and wipes the anger from me. My sated brain listens to the conversation going on outside the tent.
“Hey, guys. I’m going to try and get some sleep,” Bowen says, his voice spinning with my groggy thoughts. “The kid’s restrained again, and I gave him his ration.”
“Maybe you should double his dose,” Tommy says.
“Not funny, Tommy. The lab only pays for living beasts.”
“It was a joke, Bowen. Don’t worry. We’ll keep the camp safe from the kid,” Tommy says.
“Yeah. About that. Don’t let
anyone
in the tent, all right? And do not leave your posts.”
“You think he’s on the verge of turning?” Tommy asks, suspicious.
“Something like that,” Bowen says, his voice fading as sleep settles over me.
I am being touched, a warm hand caressing my cheek. The gentle touch reminds me of what I am missing—human contact—andleaves me wanting more, wanting my mother’s arms around me, my father’s hand patting my back, Jonah bumping his knuckles on mine, Lis painting my nails, Bowen …
I sigh and lean into the touch, letting it fill me with comfort, with longing, with sorrow. Tears sting my eyes. I am so starved for affection it hurts. But I’m so tired, I can’t bring myself to open my eyes. The trembling fingers move from my cheek to my mouth, gently tracing my bottom lip. And then they clamp down, crushing my teeth into my lips.
Tiredness forgotten, my eyes shoot open. Dark surrounds me, as if I’m in the tunnels again. A firm weight settles on my hips, and breath pants against my face.
More hands touch me, sliding over my body, groping my chest. The bottom of my shirt is lifted, and cold metal touches my stomach. In one swift slice, the T-shirt is cut from my body. A flashlight flickers on, shining on my bound chest, and someone gasps.
“I told you it was female!” The voice belongs to the person straddling me. I struggle against the weight, but my head is still groggy from sleep, my muscles filled with exhaustion. Plus, both of my tender arms are locked beneath a pair of knees. And my legs are locked in cuffs.
The flashlight goes dark.
“She’s been sedated, but hold her arms tight anyway!” the man atop me orders. Hands grip my arms, anchoring them to the tent
I whimper and jerk away. Liquid oozes from a popped blister and Tommy laughs. He swings the gun toward my other arm, but Bowen grabs it.
“Just leave the kid alone,” Bowen snaps. He shoves Tommy’s gun out of the tent.
“Whoa, man, you’re the one who needs to chill. You’re acting … sympathetic toward the Fec.” Tommy drops the tent flap and grumbles something I can’t quite make out.
Bowen shakes his head and crawls to my feet. Without a word, he pushes the hem of my jeans up around my knees and attaches the cuffs to my calves.
“Bowen, please don’t—” Before I can beg him not to restrain me, electricity hums and my legs snap together, the cuffs clicking against each other as they lock into place.
“I’m not going to cuff your arms. You’re welcome,” he retorts.
With my fingers I comb my hair out of my eyes and glare at him. “Thanks,” I whisper. He nods and tosses a wafer onto the floor beside me. And then he’s gone.
Anger and frustration bring the sting of tears to my eyes. All I want is to be back in my house, the way it used to be, inside a thirteen-year-old body, with Jonah doing his homework in themusic room while I practice the piano, and Dad in the kitchen cooking dinner, and Mom on her way home from work, and Lis coming home from college.
I glare at the wafer, feeling so sorry for myself I’m tempted to chuck it out of the tent and start the slow process of starving myself to death. But my stomach growls, feels concave, so I shove it into my mouth. It dissolves into the flavor of roast ribs and sweet potatoes and trickles down my throat. I close my suddenly heavy eyes and give in to the food-induced lethargy that steals the last bit of energy from my muscles and wipes the anger from me. My sated brain listens to the conversation going on outside the tent.
“Hey, guys. I’m going to try and get some sleep,” Bowen says, his voice spinning with my groggy thoughts. “The kid’s restrained again, and I gave him his ration.”
“Maybe you should double his dose,” Tommy says.
“Not funny, Tommy. The lab only pays for living beasts.”
“It was a joke, Bowen. Don’t worry. We’ll keep the camp safe from the kid,” Tommy says.
“Yeah. About that. Don’t let
anyone
in the tent, all right? And do not leave your posts.”
“You think he’s on the verge of turning?” Tommy asks, suspicious.
“Something like that,” Bowen says, his voice fading as sleep settles over me.
I am being touched, a warm hand caressing my cheek. The gentle touch reminds me of what I am missing—human contact—andleaves me wanting more, wanting my mother’s arms around me, my father’s hand patting my back, Jonah bumping his knuckles on mine, Lis painting my nails, Bowen …
I sigh and lean into the touch, letting it fill me with comfort, with longing, with sorrow. Tears sting my eyes. I am so starved for affection it hurts. But I’m so tired, I can’t bring myself to open my eyes. The trembling fingers move from my cheek to my mouth, gently tracing my bottom lip. And then they clamp down, crushing my teeth into my lips.
Tiredness forgotten, my eyes shoot open. Dark surrounds me, as if I’m in the tunnels again. A firm weight settles on my hips, and breath pants against my face.
More hands touch me, sliding over my body, groping my chest. The bottom of my shirt is lifted, and cold metal touches my stomach. In one swift slice, the T-shirt is cut from my body. A flashlight flickers on, shining on my bound chest, and someone gasps.
“I told you it was female!” The voice belongs to the person straddling me. I struggle against the weight, but my head is still groggy from sleep, my muscles filled with exhaustion. Plus, both of my tender arms are locked beneath a pair of knees. And my legs are locked in cuffs.
The flashlight goes dark.
“She’s been sedated, but hold her arms tight anyway!” the man atop me orders. Hands grip my arms, anchoring them to the tent
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