vibe. On one hand, it might be something harmless in there, like a dog or cat, or maybe some animal indigenous to the island, like a raccoon. On the other hand, Lester was a psychopath, and he might be expecting her to nuzzle a rotting corpse.
Either way, Lester was watching her, judging her. She had to make a good impression.
She chewed on her lower lip and approached the crate cautiously, the foul smell getting stronger. At first, all she noticed were clumps of hay. And then she saw it.
“Georgia girl can touch the pet,” Lester said. “The pet is tame.”
Georgia clamped both of her hands to her mouth and tried not to throw up.
Sara ran. Not from their pursuers—she didn’t even see their pursuers. Sara ran after Laneesha, determined to catch her and bring her back. They needed to stay together. Sara couldn’t handle losing any more kids.
But the teen was fast, and it was dark, and after two quick turns Sara lost her among the piles of bones.
Sara stopped, turning in a full circle, looking and listening for any movement.
Laneesha was gone. So were Martin and Jack.
Sara tried to backtrack, weaving her way through the bonefield, fighting the urge to yell out either of their names. She didn’t want Laneesha to be alone. Martin either, especially with his injuries.
She ran, frantic, thinking only of them and not her personal neuroses, rounding a particularly large mound of the dead, coming face to face with the forest, the darkness. From the darkness, came a cry.
It wasn’t Meadow. It was a girl, high-pitched, a scream of fright rather than pain.
If so, she’d gotten pretty far pretty fast. The sound came from deep in the woods. Without thinking, Sara ran into the trees.
When the forest surrounded her, she froze.
Sara whirled around. Trees. Shadows. Darkness. Looking up, the dark had even swallowed the sky.
She felt it in her chest first, a tightening that made her pant. Her palms got wet. Her mouth went dry. Sara was nine years old again, back in the trunk, waiting for someone to free her. She tried to get her feet to move, tried to battle the weight of the darkness pressing upon her. But she remained locked in place, a statue, too frightened to even blink.
Sounds, to her left. Someone coming.
No, more than just someone. A lot of people.
But she stayed rooted to the spot, even when they burst through the bushes and rushed at her.
PART 3
THE FIRE
Laneesha startled herself awake, freaked out by a crazy dream she had about running through mountains of human bones.
She didn’t know why her head and chest both hurt, or why she was sitting down rather than lying in her bed, or why she couldn’t move her arms.
Then she saw the old man standing in front of her, an old man she’d never seen before, and it all came back to her in a horrible rush.
“Hello, child. I gave you a little something to help you wake up. I also took the liberty of removing that nasty bone from your shoulder. It was a fibula, if you’re curious. Very old. About a hundred and forty years old, to be more exact. I even stitched you up. No need to thank me. I am a doctor, after all.”
The old man tucked an empty syringe into his coat pocket. It was a white coat, the kind doctors wear. But this one was covered with ugly brown stains and peach-colored smears.
The man himself was also ugly. He had a bald head, freckled with liver spots, and a long neck with a lot of wrinkled loose skin hanging from it. His face was unusually dull, as if he had make-up on. He wore glasses, which were coated with a layer of dirt and grease so thick Laneesha wondered how he could see through them, and he stood in a stooped way, his back bending like a question mark.
Laneesha tried to stand, and realized her arms and legs were strapped to a wheelchair. She fought against the bonds, the leather digging into her wrists, and succeeded only in causing abrasions.
“My name is Doctor Plincer. You’re about to become part of a very important scientific study. An epic one, in fact. Unfortunately, you’ll be part of the control group. Sort of. Well, not really, but it sounds better.”
Laneesha looked hard at the doctor, more angry than afraid. “You better let me go, you dirty ol’ man. Or I am gonna kick yo ass.”
Doctor Pincer scratched at his chin and something flaked off his face.
“You see, my dear, there are wolves, and there are sheep. While I admire your spunk, I’m out of sheep at the moment, and I don’t want Subject 33 mad at me. So I’m giving you to him.”
“What the fuck you talkin’ about?”
“Hmm. Yes. Well, no harm in telling you, and truth told, I don’t have many people to talk to these days. The ferals are, well,
Laneesha looked away from the doctor, taking in her surroundings. She was in some sort of hallway. The walls were brick. The only light was a bulb hanging from the ceiling. Her wheelchair was next to a large iron door with a slot in it at waist-level. Laneesha recognized it as a solitary confinement door. The slot was for food, and it was open. She peered through and it seemed to lead to another room, with another identical door and slot.
Through this second slot, a pair of bloodshot eyes stared at her.
“He’s watching you, I see. I think he likes you. If he doesn’t like what I’m giving him, he doesn’t keep looking. He’s one of my greatest successes, Subject 33. Too much of a success, really. The procedure worked like it was supposed to. Worked perfectly. But afterward he wouldn’t follow orders, couldn’t be trusted. Tried to kill me on several occasions. Once he even dragged me into that horrible room of his. If Lester hadn’t been there to help, I shudder at the things he would have done to me.”
Subject 33 blinked. Then his head moved up and he stuck his nose in the slot. Well, part of a nose. Even at this distance Laneesha could see the disfigurement. His nose twitched, and Subject 33 snorted.
