Danica crouched alone on the bare mat in her small two and
three quarter meter by one meter cell and watched the light panel above her
brighten for another daily cycle. 749. 749 cycles since she was brought
here. Wherever here was? Memories of how she got there were disjointed in her
mind: a moonlit wheat field, a flash of light, a frosted room, and then this
cell. Each cycle was etched in her mind as she forced herself to count them.
It kept her sane, in a compulsive sort of way. The routine was like clockwork.
Soon, her keepers would arrive, but this time it wouldn’t be for her regular
weapons training and simulator practice. No. She lightly brushed her
fingertips against the angry bruise on her cheek and winced.
Her eyes darted to the door at the sound of distant footfalls
on metal floor plates. One, no, two guards approached.
She fingered the tough stiff fabric of the faded blue overalls
she had worn since she had arrived. There were blocky yellow angular symbols
that repeated across the front and back, but she couldn’t read them. Her
keepers had neglected to teach her their sing-song language. She rocked slightly
on the heels of her poorly fitted, calf-high black boots. It didn’t matter.
All the prisoners here were kept separated. No one to talk with, no reason to
talk. Silence had become her defense. From a distance, she had watched how they
had treated the others, the ones that had tried to speak. The handsome golden
tanned features of her wardens’ faces would curl in disdain as if they
were being forced to endure the chorus of grunts from a sty. She had felt their
self-assumed superior contempt when she first woke up and found herself here.
But where was here, and what did they really want? These two questions
had echoed in her brain every day since she had arrived.
The sound of footsteps grew louder. Danica tensed when the
small plate in the panel slid to one side. No, they weren’t here to
take me to more training. She scowled at the tawny pair of eyes that studied
her. Golden ones, she snarled in her mind. The golden lion eyes moved
aside while a second set took their place. Her empathic ability told her they
were afraid. Good! she thought as the memory of the other day made
her eager to confront them again. She had snapped and injured three guards before
they brought her down with a stun rifle. When she woke up she was back in her
cell.
It was their own damn fault! They made me what I am...barely
human. The last thought made her stomach turn. No, wait and see. She
reined herself in. Not yet, no place to run or hide. Their physical
and mental manipulations had driven her to the edge, several times. They had
come to put her down, she had become too uncooperative, too unpredictable, but
they wouldn’t do it here in her cell. She knew. She remembered. They would
take her back to the lab like they had done seven times before and perform that
insane procedure. She’d rather die forever then have them try it again!
The door opened. Two of them entered; sun-bleached blond, males
with bronzed tans in red and black uniforms. Their movements were fluid, their
eyes like lions. One of them leveled a rifle-like weapon at her and signaled
her to go out the door.
Not yet, patience, she thought as she went where they
pointed. Comforted by her compliance, they began to chatter in their sing-song
tongue. She knew the way. She’d done it seven times before. Death was
welcome; it was the resurrection that she dreaded. 18...19...20...21,
she silently counted before they turned down the corridor and entered a large
two story room through the 22nd door. Inside there was another door that lead
to the training corridor to her right, a set of double doors directly across,
and three doors at the left end. Each door had red symbols neatly printed on
them that meant nothing to her, nothing except the middle door at the end of
the room represented pain. She glanced up at the laser turret above the door
they had just come through. There was an observation window on the second floor
with a guard posted looking down at them. Not yet, she warned herself. When
they reached the lab, the door slid open. Inside was a table with straps and
walls with shelves filled with boxes, assorted equipment, and glassware. Another
table stood to one side covered with medical equipment. She knew. They had used
it on her before. Danica hesitated.
Impatient, one of them shoved her forward. Suddenly Danica’s
mind unraveled. No! Better to take her chances with the laser turret
outside! She turned to confront him, but the other hit her in the side of the
face with the butt of his weapon. They both uttered a cruel laugh as she fell
to her knees, stunned by the blow to her head. As the door closed, she blinked
back the blood that blurred her vision in one eye. You’re not going
to do this to me again, she vowed in cold silence. I will escape or
die trying! Her enhanced muscles tensed without a second thought. She lunged
at her assailant and slammed his large frame into the door. His weapon flew
from his hands as he slipped to the floor, stunned. She dove for the weapon,
but suddenly felt herself lifted by a violent kick. Her ribs gave with a brutal
crack. She rolled away in agony while the fallen attacker picked himself up.
Anger rose inside as she lunged towards the one that had kicked her. Glassware
sprayed upward in a shower of splinters as he sprawled into a shelf against
the wall.