Oculus (Oculus #1) (29 page)

“He could be a theif. But I admit he’s probably Resistance. The point is that he was left to die while his accomplices made their escape. It ain’t right! Those animals sinking their hooks into kids and twisting them all up inside. Now he’s probably gonna die. And for what? Because some asshole out in the woods didn’t want to work for a living! It’s just a crying shame.”

I keep my face still with an effort, but inside I’m grinning like a madman. This explains why I’m still alive, if not why I’m secured so efficiently. Security apparently has no clue who I am or what I can do. So far, it appears they think I’m one of the Junior Resistance, a rabble-rouser from another location. This might buy me enough time to escape, or barring that to get a hand free. There were several ways I can kill myself that only required one hand. The thought of leaving Iris here alone, undefended, is the only thing that gives me any hesitation.

As long as I’m alive she’s in danger. It’ll take them some time, but eventually they will be able to get the information they need out of me. If nothing else there are chemicals they can use that even I won’t be able to resist.

The knock out gas that had been used to capture me was designed to keep a subject subdued for an entire day, unless an antidote was administered. It was only a bit before one of the guards asks another for the time and I’m able to orient myself. I’ve been out for just over eight hours. Security is likely focusing their energies on finding my ‘cohorts’ that had escaped them. The idea of The Corp wasting energy beating the bushes would have been funny if I wasn’t trapped inside a cell. The straps holding me in place prevent me from moving even a fraction. There’s no way to get enough leverage to break any of them and they’ve stripped me bare. All of the small weapons hidden in my clothes are far beyond my reach. The thin green gown I’m wearing barely offered warmth, much less a place to conceal anything.

About two hours after I wake up, a technician comes in to check on me. At the sound of his approach I regulate my breathing. Consciously, I bring my heartrate down to simulate the same readings as someone who was unconscious. For a moment, I toy with the idea of suspending my readings entirely, before I discard the thought. There’s a chance that the technician or other responders might free me from the restraints to work on me. If they didn’t the results could be disastrous. They might realize that I was awake and then all chance of escape or death could vanish.

As the technician leaves I listen to his departure, trying to see if he had discovered that I’m awake. I’m relieved when the technician makes his report without any verbal clue that he saw any issues.

“Readings are normal. The guy should be out for at least the next sixteen hours. I expect you guys will be seeing me again soon. I’m supposed to come down with the Chief when she interrogates him.”

“I look forward to it,” the young woman says. The attraction in her voice is apparent and I feel like laughing when the obviously clueless man says his goodbyes and continues on his way.

Remember Sic, even half blind, half deaf, and clueless these people managed to bring you down. Maybe you shouldn’t be so damn cocky!

It sounds like Anna’s voice in my head and I realize that it’s was my own fault that I’ve been caught. I’ve gotten so used to passing freely in and out of the compound that I got sloppy. It’s ironic that Iris’s best friend is the one that sounded the alarm. I briefly wonder if Iris would have been furious with me if I had killed the girl.

It’s several hours later, about the time that my stomach starts to complain about being empty, that I hear company coming. The confident step of hard shoes on tile, followed by the shuffle of several pairs of heavy boots and the squeaky cadence of the technician that visited me before.

Without opening my eyes I’m able to track the four troopers. Two stopped outside the door, two took up posts inside the door. The technician crosses over to me and begins taking vitals while the confident walk stops near the troopers. I hear her giving last-minute instructions, mostly things about shooting to wound unless absolutely necessary. Their response told me what I already suspected, the woman was Chief Williams.

She strides across the room, stopping well out of reach, and addresses the technician. “Cardin, how long will the antidote take to bring him around?” I hear the technician slotting a nodule into a spray syringe.

“Not long. The antidote for the sleep gas is mostly inert. It just encapsulates the sleep agent and the body passes it out later. The average person wakes within a few seconds of it being administered.”

I feel him push the cold metal against my chest and a cool mist settled on my skin. Flickering my eyes in what I know was a passable imitation of someone waking from the gas I look around in confusion.

“What’s going on? Where am I?” The technician scurries away from me and the two guards near the door trained their weapons on me. Chief Williams steps around to where I can see her but stays out of the line of fire. I make a token effort to break out of my bonds before widening my eyes and simulating the terrified expression I’ve seen on so many faces. “Why are you doing this to me?”

I see satisfaction spread across Williams’ face and a grunt of disgust comes from one of the guards near the door. There were thousands of souls that had been at my mercy just as I’m at theirs now. I’m amused to see that my acting skills had completely fooled them into thinking they’ve got me frightened.

“We will ask the questions here, young man,” Chief Williams replies. Her stern expression and level, matronly voice likely command respect from those she speaks to. I play along, turning my eyes toward her in what I hoped looked like a silent plea for help. “Who are you and what were you doing in The Corp compound when we found you?”

“I was hungry,” I say. I try to keep the tremor of fear in my voice believable. Most sheep were scared of wolves and this was the biggest, baddest wolf of all. A corporate security chief. “I saw a few of the guards take a break and I scaled the wall. I thought I could get into a house and find some food. I’m sorry.” I let my voice rise to a panicky whine at the last words. The grimace that flashes across Williams face tells me I nailed the performance.

“I’m supposed to believe that you climbed a wall, barehanded, while our compound was on lockdown?” Her sneer is good. I can barely tell how furious she is at the apparent breach I’m telling her existed in her perimeter. “Do you have wings that let you fly?” I try to shake my head, but the strap holding it in place barely let me wiggle it at all. The end result I hope was somewhat pitiful.

“There was a rope, I climbed it.” Her eyes narrow and she takes a step forward.

“Now you are just being ridiculous. A rope? Left hanging from our walls. First you want me to believe my men left a gap you just strolled through, now you want me to believe they put a rope out for you? We’re done.” She turns to go and I shake as hard as I can in my restraints, all the while screaming at her to wait. I see the micro expression of satisfaction on her face before she replaces it with a look of rage. “What do you want, you little rodent?”

“I followed them. I didn’t think anyone would see me and I could get something to eat.” I clamp my lips shut and let a look of horror play out on my face. Williams steps forward and puts her hand on my arm. Giving me what I assumed passed for a comforting look of sorrow she shakes her head at me.

“No, don’t stop, little rodent. You are firmly caught in a trap. The only way out is through me.” I keep my face suitably frightened while another part of my mind visualizes the enjoyable task of ripping her in half to escape. “Now, if you are truly repentant, and are completely truthful, I can see if we have a place for you. It might be at a work camp, but at least you will be fed. If not, the other option is a bullet to the brain and your corpse ends up powering our lights for a day. What will it be?” I pretend to think about it. To have the attack of conscience a protagonist would have in one of the novels I loved to read. If I give in too quickly she’ll suspect me immediately, but if I wait too long she might lose interest. Just as I see the body language indications that she’s wavering, I let her think I’ve cracked.

Slumping my shoulders, I let my body relax on the table. I decide to use what little intelligence I’ve managed to gather to my advantage. Pretending to be exhausted emotionally I spew out my tale with such convincing emotion that I’d have had Anna practically believing it.

“They came through the forest where I lived. My parents, they were farmers, but they got sick while I was away delivering vegetables. They had some medicine that they gave me. It cured me of being sick, but by the time I got back to my parents they were dead. I tried to farm the land, but I’ve never been very good with plants. After a few weeks I was starving, so I went looking for the men that gave me the medicine. They told me that if I joined them they would feed me. I didn’t know they were Resistance. I just was hungry.”

Chief Williams looks over at the guards near the door. At that moment my stomach gives a huge gargling growl, announcing to the room at large that I am in fact hungry. I’ve always found that couching a lie in a truth makes it far easier to remember, and for others to swallow.

“How long have you been with them,” Chief Williams asks.

“Only a short time, they used me for grunt work at first. This was the first big thing that they included me in. And they abandoned me the second I fell behind.”

After that the interrogation began in earnest. I give them names, descriptions, travel paths and safe houses. All of the information I give them was useless. The people were amalgamations of real folks I’ve met in my travels. The paths were old game trails that most people avoided. They were too open for most travelers’ tastes. The safe houses I give them were thickets that I’ve used to hide from time to time. I hope by the time they had a chance to verify any of my information it would be too late. Besides, they seem more interested in where my companions are now. I told Williams that my name was Bakes, something my mother called me because of my love for being out in the sun. It’s the name of a kid I knew once. He died of a fever in some no name hamlet. His parents had hated The Corp for not providing the meds that would have saved his life. I figure he wouldn’t mind if I borrowed his identity.

“Bakes,” Williams says gently. She’s holding a plate of delicious smelling meat and potatoes that she’s slowly eating from. “The sooner we know everything about your friends, the sooner you can eat.” I let some drool spill down my lips, something I didn’t have to fake, that food smelled good.

“When I last saw them they were going to try and get into the storage rooms. They said they had some guys from the wall guards that they paid off. I don’t know what they paid them with or who they were. If we got what we wanted we were supposed to wait outside the walls in a hiding place for a few days. They never told me where that was. Please. Can I have some of that food? I’m starving? Please? I’ve told you all I know! I swear!”

Chief Williams keeps up the food torture for another hour. She’s thorough, re-asking questions, reframing them to check my answers and trying to poke holes in my stories. When she finally calls an end to it she leaves the nearly empty plate on my chest. Motioning the technician forward she instructs him to feed me. The man tilts the plate, scraping the food off into my mouth. When they left the room I pretend to collapse into an exhausted slumber. I hear them step down the hall into another room and close the door. Though their conversation was faint I was still able to make it out.

“If he’s telling the truth we may have a use for him. Our PR is in the toilet lately. Between the death of Benson and then Ingram getting himself killed, the citizens need to see that we are taking positive action to protect them. The last thing we need right now is an armed group of insurgents operating inside our walls. I want the entire compound searched. Then I want the surrounding area cleared. If we find his friends then we eliminate them. As for him, hold him in a cell, provide him food and water, treat any wounds he has. I want him on suicide watch. Young people sometimes get over emotional about things like this. He may decide that betraying his friends is something he can’t live with. I don’t want him to have the option. I want a full report…”

A fan kicks on in the room, some sort of air handling device and it drowns out the rest of what they’re saying. I allow myself to really relax onto the table. At least for now, I’m in no danger and neither was Iris. It’ll be some time before they come to move me to a cell and I need rest before that happens. Allowing myself to slip down into sleep I leave my cell behind.