A Code to DeCipher (BillDip)

Chapter 14

It'd been two days since Agent Moore threatened Dipper with his family's life, and so far, the boy hadn't tried to pull any tricks. Dipper Pines did his every task without comment or complaint. His face was permanently slackened in a defeated gaze, and he rarely made eye-contact with anyone who came into the room. Just do as your told, he'd think to himself, and you'll be okay. No one will get hurt... You just have to wait it out... But he was beginning to think that he'd never stop waiting. He had no idea if his family and friends were safe, or if they were even in any danger. They could already be dead, for all he knew. As for Bill... Dipper tried not to look at the camera feed, but... Sometimes he'd look over, and his heart would shatter once more at the sight of him strapped to the table. Every now and then, he'd see a scientist or agent come in to run tests on him, but Dipper always refused to watch.

Adding to his sense of hopelessness was the exhaustion that came with casting so many charms and spells. He'd cast them and recast them, over and over until the people watching learned it. He could only teach two spells a day, before he would pass out from exhaustion and lack of motivation. He needed to get out. He had to. But he didn't know how...

Dipper was sitting at the cold metal table, staring at his hands on the surface. He had just finished a flame spell, and he still smelled slightly of smoke. So many spells to choose from...he could use any of them to escape. But it'd be a race against the clock, and Dipper couldn't risk the life of any one of his friends. He'd just have to wait it out....

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dipper presumed it was day three. He couldn't actually tell. It was always bright in the room he was kept in. It was the same room in which he had met Agent Moore. He didn't know how long he had slept, or even what time it was, there wasn't a clock in the room. He based it off of when he finally felt rested when he woke up. If he didn't feel refreshed from sleep, then it hadn't been a night of sleep. That's all he had to go off of. Now, though, that method wasn't working very well, because he slept often, and almost never felt fully rested. The other day, he had passed out halfway through a spell, and nearly turned the agents learning into melted human corpses. Agent Moore's punishment for him was no meals for a week. He told Dipper that he should be relieved he wasn't being punished harshly, then stormed out of the room without giving Dipper what the boy guessed counted as a meal.

They fed him a slice of stale bread and some water, once every two days, if Dipper went according to his sleep pattern. The teen was already beginning to show bone, especially in the stomach and cheeks. His hands would shake whenever he reached out for something, or went to cast a spell. He often had coughing fits that hurt his throat and chest and left him craving water to soothe his burning throat. He'd found out what the drain was for at the beginning of his captivity. Dipper wasn't allowed to leave the room, even to go to the bathroom. Every day, right before Dipper would go to bed, a small water jet would come down from the ceiling and clean the floor, which often resulted in Dipper's cloths getting wet once more. Thankfully, the agents allowed him to cast a dry spell on the journal and himself, but he couldn't find the energy to keep himself and the journal dry, so he decided to protect the journal. Wet and cold in the harsh metal room, it was miraculous that the teen didn't get sick before he did.

He shivered all the time, and was constantly sniffling and coughing. It steadily grew harder and harder for him to wake up and stay awake, and despite their indifference, the agents were beginning to worry. Maybe two weeks of nonstop spell casting did have its toll...? After brief discussion and a few heated arguments, it was decided that Dipper would have two days off, and be sent to the medical ward just to make sure he wasn't going to drop dead on them.

They moved him while he was sleeping. The boy only slightly stirred when they picked him up off the cold wet floor and set him on a gurney. They tried to take the journal from him, but it was gripped tightly in his arms, and when they tried to move, the boy eyes fluttered open for a moment before closing again. Not wanting to wake him and risk making a commotion or even an escape attempt, they let the boy keep the journal. They wheeled him down the hallways, taking extra turns and wheeling back the way they came, then turning back around, just incase he wasn't actually asleep, and was tracking their movements. When they finally reached the medical bay, Dipper was beginning to toss and turn. The agents weren't worried about him waking up now. They knew from observation that when Dipper slept like this, he was deep in a dream and wouldn't wake up for a while longer.