Battlefield (3 page)

Sarah Norman was an Overseer, which meant she was an important part of the International Genealogy Laboratory.  Sarah could have been a model if she wanted; she had a slim frame and a pretty face, but she liked to be in positions of power rather than allow herself to be objectified.  And her position at IGL definitely held power.  What Sarah did was run the Units – make sure that they were training correctly, that they were engaging in breeding services, that they weren’t mouthing off to the scientists, that they weren’t trying to escape.  An escape could ruin everything the IGD and the Director had worked for. One of Sarah’s jobs was to prevent that from happening.

Sarah had a team of workers she called the VR Unit – or the Video Recorder Unit.  A group of about six men and women were gathered in their room, and their job was to sit in front of the monitors and report anything suspicious to Sarah directly.  They were paid thirty dollars an hour, and had eight hour shifts.  It was a ridiculously easy job, but any amount in failure would result in termination.  What kind of termination was left up for Sarah to decide.

“Ma’am?” the familiar voice of Bernie said over the intercom.  Sarah regarded the box with an arched brow, and though Bernie couldn’t see his superior, continued on.  “Yes, I think I may have something odd over in Unit 121.”

Sarah reached over and pressed the red button, holding it down.  “I’ll be over shortly, Bernie,” she told him in her crisp, cold voice.  It took her a moment, but soon she was standing up, straightening out her Chanel suit, and heading out the door and into the VR Unit’s room.

Without saying a word, she walked over to Bernie’s station and leaned over his shoulder.  Her sudden presence startled Bernie, and he straightened, quickly rewinding the footage until he found what he was looking for.  He didn’t need to say anything, and he didn’t, before playing the soundless footage and allowing Sarah to make of it what she would.

Sarah watched as 113089 and 111369 interacted, her lips becoming decidedly more and more pursed together.  Her sessions of Botox prevented any unnecessary wrinkles from forming on her forehead, but if anyone looked at her at that moment, they could immediately tell there was strain, and whenever there was strain, Sarah Norman was not happy.  She made Bernie play it for her two more times before she stood upright and reached for her cell phone.

“Yes, it’s Sarah,” she said in a low murmur as she headed out of the VR room.  “There seems to be some inappropriate behavior being displayed by 113089 in Unit 121.  Please check that out and bring her into Room A.”  Without waiting to see if the person on the other end of the phone agreed or not, she hung up, sliding the phone back into her pocket.  She needed to have a little chat with 113089.  Or, as her Unit called her, Devyn.

--

Two days later, Gerard walked over to Devyn’s room – cell, she had called it – ready to see if she was going to allow him to do his job and procreate with her.  He still couldn’t believe her stubbornness, that she was so sure in her beliefs that she wouldn’t give them up for anyone or anything.  If he was being honest, it amused him to no end – and, in fact, he respected her for it, though he would never admit it aloud.  But he had a job to do, and luckily for him, she was a looker and could inspire arousal in him if she so chose to do.  He could do much worse when it came to a breeding partner; that much he was aware of and knew.

“Ah, 111369,” the same doctor greeted him, just as he had done two days ago.  “I am afraid to disappoint you, my friend, but you are relieved of your procreation services today.”

Gerard furrowed his brow, knowing that no matter what Devyn believed, she wouldn’t question the Superiors.  So why…  He couldn’t think about it now.  Maybe Devyn’s friend Rachel would know.  He nodded at the guard and returned to his cell, counting down the minutes until training time.

Training began an hour after procreation, which for today, meant at two o’clock.  Gerard met up with Hugh, but after a moment of chatting, he excused himself to talk to Rachel. Oddly enough, she was punching air rather than at Devyn.

“Rachel,” Gerard said in his gruff voice.  “Where is Devyn?”

Rachel paused and relaxed her body, giving Gerard the once-over.  Just because he was hot did not mean he was allowed to talk to her friend the way he had a couple of days ago.  Oh well.  Men would never learn, would they?  “You don’t beat around the bush,” she quipped, reaching his eyes with her brown ones.  “And to answer your question, I have no idea.  After we dissembled from training two days ago, someone came up and said Sarah needed to talk to her.”  Rachel didn’t have to explain who Sarah was; everybody knew the Ice Queen.  “I haven’t seen her since.”  Rachel glanced away before looking back at Gerard, a raw vulnerability in her eyes.  “I know you don’t believe that we’re humans or whatever, but I’m still worried about her.  She’s my best friend…”

Though Gerard would never admit it, something inside of him felt worried for the young woman as well.

Fifteen minutes later, Gerard had returned to Hugh in order to continue to train when a Whitecoat approached the men.  “111369,” he said curtly, causing both Hugh and Gerard to disengage in combat for a while.  “You are wanted in Laboratory C.”

This was just getting way too weird.  Gerard nodded stoically once again, and ignored the questioning look on Hugh sent him, knowing he couldn’t answer it no matter how he might want to.  Something had happened to Devyn, something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on…  Hopefully his presence at Laboratory C would help him figure out just what was going on.

The first thing he noticed when he saw stepping into the building was Devyn, sitting on her knees and leaning forward.  The standard issued grey t-shirt was split open in two ways – whip marks, he realized in surprise.  Gerard tilted his head back in order to take in more of his surroundings.  He had a survival method after all, and one of those rules was to familiarize one’s self with the environment.  A Whitecoat was a couple of feet behind Devyn, the leather whip in his hand.  Three other Whitecoats, he knew, were standing behind reflective glass, no doubt with clipboards in their hand, murmuring to themselves.  A collective group of machinery was off to the side, other Whitecoats behind it, typing something.  Even after everything, Gerard placed his eyes back on Devyn.

For a long moment, he studied her face.  God, she looked like she was in pain, but he couldn’t see any traces of tears slipping down her face.  Her eyes weren’t bloodshot, but the strain in her mouth was a dead giveaway, at least for him.  He clenched his jaw, suddenly angry at the situation in front of him.  Yes, he didn’t exactly know Devyn – didn’t consider her to be a friend – but she was his breeding partner, goddamnit, and he felt a moral obligation to look out for her.  What could she have possibly done that constituted such punishment?  How the hell was she supposed to train with those marks on her back?  He squeezed his fingers into fists before releasing them in hopes to reign in his flaring temper, and tried to wait as best as he could for someone to talk to him.

It was Sarah that finally did.

“111369,” she said, her voice crisp as her eyes took in the man before her.  If Gerard was a real man, Sarah knew that she would be undoubtedly attracted to him.  But he wasn’t.  He came out of a test tube.  Sarah turned her head so she could look at Devyn for a long moment, signaling that Gerard should do the same.  And he did.  “113089 seems to be a rebel in her Unit.  After her little show with you two days ago – slapping you across the face and whatnot – we needed to make sure she falls back when told to.”

“Why am I here?” he finally asked, his impatience getting the better of him.

Sarah was known for being an unsmiling cold bitch, and she continued to live up to her reputation.  “113089 claims that she did engage in procreation services with you two days ago,” she told him, her eyes sharp and unflinching.  Gerard was probably one of the people who could match it with one of his own.  “After her behavior, I need to confirm it with you that what she said was true.”

Gerard clenched his jaw together once again and shifted his eyes so they looked at Devyn.  For whatever reason, she tilted her head at an awkward angle so that she was looking at him.  They locked eyes, and without any sort of sense being made from it, there was a feeling of understanding that passed between them.  “Yes,” he answered, finally looking back at Sarah.  “Yes she did.”      

Sarah tried to read anything that might show 111369 was lying to her, but his stare was as unflinching as hers was, and she couldn’t claim one way or the other if they had or hadn’t.  All the proof she had was 113089’s testimony as well as 111389’s, and since they both stated the same thing, she couldn’t exactly argue with them.  Finally, after another moment, she nodded her head once, firmly, and looked back at the pitiful woman.

“All right then,” Sarah said coolly.  “You may take her back to her cell then, 111369.  But please note that if both of you are lying to me, this…”  She gestured at Devyn.  “…will be nothing when it comes to punishment.”

“Noted,” Gerard snapped, his eyes narrowed at Sarah, before he walked around her and headed into what was known as the Bullpen in Laboratory C.  This was where experiments were executed on certain genomes.  And, apparently, it was also where they executed punishments.

Gerard was unsure of how to proceed when he reached Devyn.  He tried not to look at her back, the wounds fresh and no doubt stinging.  Instead, he dropped to his knees so that he was in the exact position she was and waited until she noticed his position beside her.  When she finally locked eyes with him, she pushed her brow up rather than say anything.  It might have been too painful to speak.  Or maybe she didn’t want Gerard to hear the pain in her voice.

“I’m to escort you back to your cell,” he told her quietly, keen to keep the frustration out of his voice.  Just because he was mad at these people for hurting her didn’t mean he was going to take it out on Devyn.

The young woman before him nodded once, swallowing the bile in her mouth before opening her eyes.  She took in a long breath before pushing up on her knees, attempting to stand.  Every muscle in her back screamed with pain, and for the first time in her life, Devyn couldn’t lift herself up.  She was stuck, too hurt to stand.  Tears of frustration tickled the corners of her eyes but she blinked them back and tried again, this time emitting a grunt.  However, she still got the same result.  Her arms felt weak, her body suddenly exhausted.  The pain coming from her back was excruciating.

Before she said anything, two strong arms wrapped around her body and picked her up with ease.  Devyn had never felt so grateful for anything in her entire life.  Yes, she could be extremely prideful, especially when it came to arrogant men like Gerard, but now was not one of those times.  She cradled her head in the crevice of where his shoulder and neck met and closed her eyes.  For the first time in the past forty-eight hours, she felt her body relax in the comfort and security of Gerard’s arms.

Once they were out of Laboratory C, Gerard walked down the west hallway and into the Cell Block before coming upon her cell.  One of the Whitecoats had to key in a code that granted them access to Devyn’s cell, and Gerard quickly shut the door behind them once they were safely inside the isolated room.  He gently placed her on her bed, making sure that she was on her stomach before finally taking a look at the wounds on her back.  They were deep, but if Devyn was as strong as Gerard believed her to be, it would only take a few days for the wounds to heal, and maybe a couple of weeks until the pain faded.  Depending on her luck, she might have scars, but then again, maybe they would fad with time.  He couldn’t be sure.

“I’m going to have to take off your shirt in order to clean your wounds,” he told her gruffly, and then expected her to get defensive or to tell him no.

But she surprised him. 

Devyn turned her head she could look at him, but it took her a moment to speak.  “Listen,” she said, her voice strained but firm.  “I know… I know we haven’t… gotten on very well… but I just… I just wanted to thank you for… for what you did for me.  But you really… you don’t need to do this.”

“You know what you are, Devyn?” Gerard asked, his tone eclipsing amused.  Though his face was still serious, there was a sparkle embedded in his pale green eyes that Devyn hadn’t seen before and, if she was being honest, made him look better than he already was.  Which was definitely saying something.  “You’re stubborn.  Probably one of the most stubborn women I have ever met.  Just relax, okay?  I’m going to do this whether you think I should or not.  I have no idea how long ago this happened and don’t want you to get infected.”

It took fifteen minutes before the Whitecoat finally brought in medical supplies for Gerard to use.  Once the door was shut, he knelt down and turned his attention to Devyn.  He didn’t say anything, but somehow the unspoken words were conveyed in his eyes and she nodded once, letting him know that he had her permission.  He reached over and slid his fingers under the hemline of her battered shirt before glancing back at Devyn.

“This might sting, all right?” Gerard warned her.

“Like a band aid,” Devyn murmured and then closed her eyes tightly, preparing for the pain.

This time, Gerard couldn’t help the corners of his lips as they quirked up in a soft smile.  The woman was definitely a strong one, whether he liked her or not.  And speaking of which, he found that each moment he spent with her, she probably wasn’t as bad as he originally thought.  Just stubborn when it came to her beliefs.  And if he was being honest, he could respect that.

Slowly, he lifted the shirt and watched as it pulled up.  He tried to be as careful as he could – decided not to rip it off like a band aid as she had requested, and when it got to her neck, helped her pull it completely off.  Gerard reached down for the water, deciding to wipe away the dried blood first before placing the antiseptic on.  He grabbed the papers towels and dabbed some cool water on it before dabbing her skin with it.  She winced, inhaling sharply, but she didn’t tell him to stop.  Gerard’s eyes descended on her back as he ministered the water.  Very sensual, he realized.  Her back was.  Even the marks currently littering the soft skin could not deter it from its beauty.

“Where were you for the past two days?” Gerard asked once he had finished washing everything off.  He grabbed the antiseptic and began to rub it into her skin, causing her to squeak in surprise and flinch in pain.

“I,” she began, but had to stop and press her lips together.  She inhaled once again, trying her best to ignore the pain, and decided to focus on Gerard’s hands on her back rather than the antiseptic in her wounds.  “I… They locked me in a hotbox for the past two days.”

The news seemed to upset Gerard even more.  A hotbox was a torturous punishment, placing a person in a room no bigger than an outhouse.  They only get fed three times a day, a cup of water five times a day, and have no semblance of human contact.  Even though they were strong – weapon-like – they weren’t immortal, and the hotbox punishment was brutal.

“Why do you have to do that?” he asked her, suddenly angered by the woman in front of him.  Why did she do this to herself?  He couldn’t understand it.  Life here was easy; keep one’s mouth shut and do what the Superiors say.  That was it.  That was all she needed to do.  “Why do you have to argue with everything?  Why do you have to fight with everyone?”

He expected her to argue with him, to get defensive about his direct questions.  And, if he was being honest, Devyn probably would have if she wasn’t in so much pain.  “Because,” she said as Gerard began wrapping around the white cloth-like material that served as a large band aid around her lower torso.  “Because I don’t… I don’t want to lose my spirit.”  She paused, waiting until a surge of pain faded before continuing.  “I don’t want to lose who I am.”

Gerard let her words sink in, and felt his anger vanish as quickly as it came.  The same small smile touched his features as he tied the bandage tightly.  He rested his hands on a safe place of the small of her back for a moment, thinking about how he should respond to that.

“They can’t take that away from you Devyn,” he told her in a low voice after ensuring that she had locked eyes with him.

He liked her, he finally decided.  Yes, she frustrated him to no end, and she was incredibly idealistic to the point of it being annoying, but he liked her in spite of it.  Maybe even because of it.