“What’re you doing?” Jones mumbled. “Quit squirming.”
“Sorry. Go back to sleep.” Andraeon forced himself to hold still, though the cold felt like it had sunk so deep into him that he would never be warm again. Despite his best efforts, a hard shiver ran through him, making his teeth chatter.
“Drae?” Jones sounded more awake this time. “What’s wrong?”
“Just cold. Really cold.”
“You feel warm enough.” Jones untangled a hand from the blankets and pressed the inside of his wrist to Andraeon’s forehead. “Do you feel sick?”
“No. I feel okay, just so cold.”
Jones sighed. “I’ll go get Shiki.” He sat up, yawning and rubbing at his eyes.
“Sorry for being a bother.”
“You’re not.” Jones kissed his temple and tucked the blankets in around him. “I won’t be long.” He pulled on his jeans and left the room; a moment later Andraeon heard the front door open and shut.
Hugging himself tightly, Andraeon curled in on himself under the blankets, closing his eyes. Shivers still ran through him but he tried to relax, sure that Jones would bring Shiki shortly. Dim colours danced and swirled in the darkness behind his lids, reminding him of the colours in the world spheres. Gradually, without realizing it, he drifted off.
After the first escape attempt, the stranger with the mismatched eyes comes to see him for the first time since he arrived here, years ago. He still doesn’t know the stranger’s name and he doesn’t care; he’s nursing a bruised jaw and a massive headache. The stranger says his name but he doesn’t get up from his curled up position on his bed, his face turned towards the wall. He just wants everyone to go away.
“Come, Andraeon.” The stranger’s voice is cajoling. “I have something for you.”
“I don’t want it,” he mutters. “I want to go home.”
“This is your home. But I can see why you might be feeling a little... cooped up in here. I have an offer to make you, Andraeon.”
He says nothing but he can’t help his curiosity. The silence between them stretches out and he can sense the stranger sitting there like a cat outside a mouse hole, but eventually he gives in and asks, “What?”
“A chance to leave and see the outside world. All you have to do is help us a little.”
“Help you how?” he asks, trying to sound bored; but he hasn’t had enough practice in lying and concealing his thoughts yet, so his eagerness bleeds through.
“We just want a little of your blood every now and then, and to be able to run a few tests. You know we haven’t since...”
Since he got big enough to struggle and win, strong enough to punch a technician in the face and break their nose. He had been scared and desperate, but he had also been angry, and there had been a thin thread of triumph weaving through it all when they just took him back to his room. They hadn’t tried since, but he supposes part of him had known they would find some way to continue. But still—he wants to go outside, to see something other than the white walls of his room and occasionally the hallway. When he escaped he caught a glimpse of the outside world he hasn’t seen since he was a child, and it had only fanned the flames of his longing.
“Can I see her?” he asks, knowing that the stranger will know what he means.
“Maybe. If you behave yourself. If you come with me and let them take some of your blood, I’ll take you out for a burger.”
His stomach growls at the thought, the sound audible in the quiet room. He stares at the wall, trying to think and weigh his options, but he already knows what he’s going to say. Trying to seem nonchalant about it, he rolls over and gets up. “I want fries too. And a milkshake.”
The stranger just smiles and nods, and it isn’t until much later that he regrets selling himself so cheaply. But that’s in the distant future and for now he just follows the stranger out of the room and down the hall to the labs. They’re big labs, cool and sterile, and they always make him shiver. The hair stands up on the back of his neck and he can feel the urge to flee itching at the base of his spine, but he calmly walks over to the group of technicians.
They sit him down and take his blood without speaking, though their movements are cautious. Instead of triumphant this time, he only feels sad; they’re afraid of him now, treating him like some sort of wild beast that needs to be handled with the utmost care lest it turn and bite. He tries mustering a smile to one of the technicians but the tech doesn’t meet his eyes, and hurries away as soon as she’s drawn his blood.
When they’re done he feels sick and dizzy; no longer in the mood for any food, let alone a greasy burger and fries. But he won’t let them have anything of him without something in return, so he forces himself to his feet and turns to the stranger. “I did my part,” he says. “Do yours.”
“Of course.” The stranger leads him out of the lab and he thinks they’re just going to go back to his room anyway, he was an idiot to believe anything any of them say, but the stranger takes him past his room and towards the big glass doors leading outside.
They step out into the night and the cool air helps to clear his head and settle his stomach. As they’re walking down towards the parking lot and the stranger’s car, he notices a group of men and women dressed in military fatigues, milling around in the small courtyard where during the day employees go to smoke. A funny thought comes to him—is Jones there, swaggering around and wearing bravado like a coat? He looks over at the group though he doesn’t even really know who it is he’s looking for. He doesn’t know anyone in the military; he doesn’t really know anyone outside the labs, and the technicians all blend into one after a while.
The stranger puts a hand on his shoulder and steers him away from the group. “Don’t pay any attention to them. They’re just helping us out with something.”
“What?” he asks, knowing he won’t get an answer; and he’s right, the stranger just ignores him.
He gets into the car and puts his seatbelt on, ignoring the urge to leave it off and try to jump out of the car once it gets moving. The stranger is watching him closely even as they pull out of the parking space and head down the driveway to the road. He slumps back in his seat and watches the scenery go by, taking comfort in actually being out of his room for even a few hours. Eventually he stops thinking about what they’re using his blood for and the group of soldiers outside the building.
Andraeon jerked upright, gasping for breath and shivering so hard his teeth clacked together like castanets. The overhead light was on and for a moment he couldn’t see anything but a yellow-white glare. Someone was holding him, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and he felt a solid presence at his back. Realizing it was Jones he let himself relax, blinking until his vision cleared and he could see Shiki sitting on the bed in front of him, wearing a robe belted over his PJ pants.
“Welcome back,” Shiki said. “How do you feel?”
“Cold,” Andraeon mumbled. “Sleepy.”
“Yeah, not that unexpected.” Shiki put a hand on his forehead and studied his eyes. “When we got back in here you were having some sort of seizure. Do you remember anything?”
Andraeon shook his head. “Just Jones leaving to get you.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Jones asked from behind Andraeon, where he’d braced himself against the headboard so he could hold Andraeon still.
“I might have an idea...” Shiki took his hand away from Andraeon’s forehead. “I know you’re cold, Drae, but can you take off your shirt?”
“Guess I can’t get any colder.” Andraeon tried to muster a smile and freed himself from Jones long enough to drag his shirt over his head.
“Hold still for a minute.” Shiki passed both hands up along Andraeon’s torso, an inch or so above his skin.
As he did, Andraeon felt the cold beginning to fade, his shivering gradually slowing down and then stopping. He relaxed back against Jones’s chest, still feeling sleepy, and tried not to feel impatient with what Shiki was doing. Then he felt the tickle of something probing at him; probing deep inside him like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. He squirmed a little then froze, looking down at himself.
Small circles of light had begun to glow on his bare skin; one on each side of his pelvis just above the waistband of his pants and one on the inside of each shoulder. Shiki reached up to gently touch the hollow of his throat and he knew there was another glowing circle there, though he couldn’t see it.
“What the hell is that?” Jones asked.
Shiki didn’t answer, curling his fingers against the glowing circle on Andraeon’s throat. Andraeon felt an odd tugging sensation, barely strong enough to register, then Shiki pulled his hand back. Caught in the cradle of his fingers was a world sphere.
No comments:
Post a Comment