Induction, Chapter Four

Chapter Four: Captive

My world is dark. Pain is my only company. I’m trapped again in the car, meeting eyes with the monster who stares back at me with hunger, with anger, and instead of limping away, it stalks toward me—

Frigid water smacks against my face and body. I inhale sharply. My eyes open. Panic wracks my body. Everything aches, my arms and head most of all. The inside of my mouth is sticky and metallic. I go to grab my head but I can’t move my arms. Each breath comes shorter and quicker than the last. My chest tightens, the world blurring at the edges.

“Mika, calm down. You’ll be okay.”

The sound of my name jars me. I glance around, trying to focus on something, anything to show me that I’m not still in my nightmare, trapped in a car with my dead family. I’m greeted with dark granite walls on three sides and floor-to-ceiling metal bars in front of me. Not the crushed metal and smashed glass of a car.

Oh, god, what is this place? It seems I’ve traded one nightmare for another.

Dim lights overhead illuminate my cellmate off to the side. The girl from before. What did she call herself?

Elizabeth.

She’s suspended from the ceiling, wrist-bound by metal cuffs. Her ankle shackles clank as she dances on the tips of her toes, straining to touch the ground. Veins pop out on her forehead and neck from the effort. Her nose is bleeding, her face red. She’s stripped of her ninja garb and weapons, wearing only a black, sweat-drenched sports bra and leggings.

“Take a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth.” Her instructions are calm, even though the words are strained and quiet.

I inhale through my nose, only to gasp as I assess myself. Chin quivering, I realize why my arms and head hurt so much. I’m restrained as she is, arms pulled up overhead, cuffed at the wrists and ankles. The only difference is my feet fully touch the ground.

“Wh…what—” I choke out the words, unable to finish my question because I don’t know what to ask. Breath coming in short, shallow bursts.

“Deep breaths, slow and easy,” she repeats.

I clench my teeth, pulling in air through my nose. Despite my better judgment, I swing my gaze around the room again, water flinging from the ends of my hair. There is a drain in the floor to my right, where a thin stream of water trickles down from where I hang.

My breath resumes in short, whimpering bursts as the worst-case scenarios run through my mind. I’m chained up in a room that has drains in the freaking floor! The nausea builds, and I fight it, shifting my attention. My attention centers on a bald man standing outside this prison. His eyes are void of emotion, his expression blank. His jumpsuit and combat boots as drab as the walls. He holds a thick black hose that’s connected to a reel mounted to the wall. Water drips from the nozzle.

Oh, god. My gaze returns to Elizabeth. Not sweat. Water. What is going on?

“Deep breaths. Yes, this is all real,” she says, speaking quickly. “Mika, whatever happens, you’re stronger than you think.”

“Wha—”

“You EONs are all alike,” a monotone voice interjects. “Handing out motivational quotes that are nothing more than bland, stale fortune cookies.”

The feminine voice is familiar, sending a shudder through me. The speaker is the one from before, when we’d been paralyzed by that ear-bleeding shrill sound. Whoever those combat boots belonged to. Claiming that I, or someone, was pitiful.

The click of a lighter breaks the silence. A deep exhale follows, as does the acrid scent of a cigarette. Tendrils of smoke enter my vision from outside the cell. A slight shadow is cast across the floor where the speaker stands just out of view.

“This is bold. Even for you,” Elizabeth says. “You know they’re coming for us.”

There’s a short, bitter laugh. “Oh, I know. They wouldn’t want to make that mistake again.”

Elizabeth sighs, lowering her head. “Elle—”

Another laugh. This one angrier than the last. “You don’t get to call me that anymore. Especially you.” Another long puff of smoke.

My stupid, panicked, confused brain starts to connect the pieces. These two share a history I’ve been dragged into. And all I wanted to do was prove a giant mountain lion exists. Stupid me.

“I’m not—” Elizabeth lets out a huff. “Elle…”

“It’s Sahara. You lost the right to address me as anything else.”

“Look, if you want quality time, you didn’t have to go this far. We can talk.”

I glance at Elizabeth, unsure what to think. She’s gazing toward where the speaker hides, a solemn expression on her face.

“Don’t. Patronize. Me.” The speaker’s words are quiet, but the anger in them has me feeling small.

This is all a bad dream, right? I’ll wake up at home, and the worst thing happening to me will be running late for work. But no, I’m trying to utilize the deep-breathing method to keep my heart from jumping out of my chest. I remain quiet, trying to be as invisible as possible.

“I don’t think you realize the gravity of the situation.” Elizabeth spares a glance in my direction. “You’ve kidnapped a civilian. This isn’t a game.”

The speaker steps into our view, wearing a bloodred button-down blouse, gray tactical pants, and familiar black combat boots. A sheathed knife is strapped to her hip. The bald man returns the hose to its reel, then steps forward, unlatches the door and holds it open for her.

I stare at the young woman like a gaping fool, then turn my eyes to Elizabeth. They’re almost identical: same wide-set eyes, nose, chin, lean, athletic build. The only physical difference is their hair. Sahara has the same dark brown color, but her locks brush only the top of her shoulders, unlike Elizabeth’s long braid.

The evil twin eyes us, a cigarette loosely held between her middle and index finger. She first stares at Elizabeth, an unspoken threat hanging in the air. Then she turns that burning hatred to me. I can’t help but flinch.

Her lips twitch. Next thing I know, she’s beside me, pressing the burning end of her cigarette to my neck.

Fire spreads under my skin. I scream. Elizabeth yells. Chains rattle. Through tears I see the evil twin staring at me, the corner of her lips twitching with a sadistic grin as she takes in every shudder of pain with cold amusement. She straightens when my screams become whimpers, then saunters over to Elizabeth.

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation,” she says, anger underlying her threat. “This was never a game. You should know that best of all.”

She turns on her heel and strides out. The cell door slams closed.