SPLICED

CHAPTER THREE

As I reenter my cell there is a tray on the floor with a bowl of beige colored broth, a chunk of bread I know will be too stale to eat , a metal cup with water and a dixie cup filled with pills. This particular cocktail, I've been told, is to help me sleep. I dump the pills into the broth and kick the tray across the floor before collapsing on my cot. I don't cry, though I want to. My cell is monitored, and I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing me broken. Quietly, I lie there until the lights overhead click out and then I force my eyes to close, though I know sleep will not come.

Sometime in the early morning hours, my eyes snap open at the sound of a click and as I straighten upright and peer through the darkness, my cell door swings outward. For several seconds after the fact I stare into the void in confusion, waiting for someone to enter. It clicks after I register the absolute silence that no one is coming. Slowly, I shift, my feet touching the floor. It feels cold beneath the thin fabric of my socks, and I notice a chill in the air as well. Our cells were never particularly comfortable, but they are generally pretty temperate. Above my head the closed circuit camera sits, housed behind a plexiglass case. The green light, which indicates that the camera is in proper working order has turned red.

Sudden light floods my cell and I drop back in shock. Olindias formosa ... The flower-hat jellyfish. Margaux's particular splice. She stands in the door frame, her pale skin aglow and I can barely compute the idea. But earlier that morning I ran upwards to eighty miles-per-hour, an impossible task without the Cheetah DNA flowing through my body. I stare, and I know I should say something, but the shock won't wear off and before I can shake it, Alex appears behind Margaux, wearing a devil's smile.

"Power's down! Let's roll..."

He doesn't have to say it twice. I'm on my feet and out of my cell before he can finish. In the hallway I stand and meet the faces of the others. Anxiety is palpable, and I am not the only one who wears a look of confusion. Jasper owns the last cell, and as he steps into the group we make thirteen, and without a word we move towards the red doors.

The doors are locked manually, but with their combined efforts, Gideon, Alex, Blake and Daniel are able to wrench them open. In the white room, we move quickly through the darkness, tackle the next set of doors. The room that follows is the elevator room. Thea points out that beyond the elevators there is a door that will lead them to the stairs. It is at this door we run into our first obstacle.

As Thea pushes the door inwards, we hear the footsteps on the metal staircase, descending rapidly. From the sound, I can make out four distinct patterns of footfall, the boots heavy soled, guard-issued uniform. David is beside Thea. He reaches out and pulls her back and behind him and as he does, a bullet strikes the ground where she stood. Alex gestures for us to separate, to stand on either side of the door and without hesitation, we obey. The footsteps grow louder and in the pregnant, cautious silence of our group I can hear their radios, echoing in the stairwell.

The power did not fail... it was shut off. This is not an accident. Someone has come to our aid.

I can hear the men now, at the bottom of the stairs, they slow and their steps soften, but my ears are so attuned, my mind focused. Alex points to Gideon and to the left door, then to Blake and David, and the right door. The rest of us stay put. No one argues, or postures. This is no time to play the hero. We are a unit without ego.

The doors open and there is a flurry of motion as the guards are rushed, taken by surprised. It is quick and they go down without a fight. For a moment or two, no one say anything, but our thoughts, I am sure, travel the same course. The guards are armed. We are not.

"Do we take the guns?" I ask, and there is a tremor in my voice.

"Can't hurt..." Alex says, nodding to the others. The guards are divested of their firearms. Alex keeps one for himself, and gives the others to Gideon, Blake and David.

"We should grab the radio, too..." Harrison adds, as we begin to file through, into the stairwell, "So we know where they're gonna be."

It's a good idea and no one argues when he takes one of the walkie-talkies and slips it into the pocket of his gown. Two by two we take the steps, the four newly armed men at the head. For a moment, we are strong. We are confident. We climb and climb and climb and though our legs are sore, our lungs burning, we don't stop. It occurs to me in the nearly endless ascension that there should be more guards, that this has all been too easy, but I force the thoughts down deep and continue upwards. Finally, we can see the last platform, the doors marked EXIT.

Before the last of us reaches the landing, the doors burst open and all at once, we are overrun. Outnumbered. Clumped together, we freeze and the four in front make a wall before the rest of us. In the midst of the swarm of guards, a woman stands. She is tall, imposing, and her dark eyes scan through us with such volatile disregard I am surprised for a moment that we aren't mowed down immediately.

When she speaks, I recognize her voice as the same one from the intercom each morning, except that in person it is somehow more mechanical and empty.

"My, my, my... What have we here. Naughty birds, caught out of their cages. Tisk, tisk." Her lips, dark cherry red, curve in a smile and irrationally, I find I hate this woman, whoever she is, "Where did you think you were going to go, my little Chickadees?

"You can't keep us here!" Alex growls, and the woman's smile does not falter, but in her eyes I can see anger, quietly seething beneath the surface of those nearly black orbs.

"Suddenly we're so brave, hmm? But I'm afraid you've misjudged our limitations. I assure you, my dear, we're quite capable of keeping you here for as long as we choose to."

"Like hell you can!" From the corner of my eye I see Blake shoot forward, his finger clutching the trigger of the gun. But he isn't fast enough. One of the guards moves at the same time, but he is trained and Blake, even with Silverback in his DNA is not fast enough. The guard reaches out, his hands grasping Blake by the wrist and the elbow. I hear a crack and Blake's arm is twisted, the angle all wrong. He cries out and the gun drops from his hand. No one else moves. No one dares to.

We are not soldiers. We are not warriors. We were fools to think we could get away.

The woman steps forward, her black heels clicking against the concrete floor. She bends and scoops up Blake's discarded gun, eyeing it thoughtfully. He is still on his knees, cradling his arm when she pointed the barrel at him. I feel a scream build in my throat, because I know what's about to happen, but the sound won't come.

The gun goes off and Blake is gone before the report finishes reverberating off the walls. Now we are twelve.

I can't move. My heart pounds against my chest and I swear it will explode out of me with each painful pulse. The others drop their weapons, though I do not think they're even aware they've done it. Behind me, I hear Margaux sobbing, and there are others in tears, but I feel nothing. I am numb. Empty.

Handing the gun to the guard who snapped Blake's arm, the woman turns to us again and her expression is without sympathy. She's pleased with herself.

"Anyone else care to demonstrate just how pathetically out of your element you are? Or have we had enough for tonight?"

It's as if we are naughty children and she's chastening us. But there's no lesson to be learned except one we are already aware of. We are disposable. I don't want to see him as he is, but I force myself to look at Blake. His eyes are open and glazed, staring empty into the ceiling. His expression looks pained, frightened... I step forward, and I can feel Alex reach out, his arm catching mine but I shake him off. I won't be stopped. Beside Blake, I kneel and with trembling fingers, I reach out and close his eyes. It seems so small a gesture, but I look at him now and he almost seems at peace. Almost.