Cardinal Tower (Trinity Central Book #1)

Chapter 7

The white walls are illuminated with a black shine. It's really the strangest sight, like a shadow that makes everything brighter rather than darker. Imagine pouring water on a towel only to have it become drier. Despite my best efforts, I can only manage a small trickle of mist, no more that a small palmful and nothing compared to the monstrosity I've created the other day.

I've been lying on my back for about five hours after Kai left. Welcome to the Cardinal Tower? I barely tolerated their Stafford labs to survive on the street; I want nothing else to do with them. What do they want from me anyway? What makes me so special to deserve a stay at the presidential building? Oh yeah, my arm. That was a thing.

I suddenly become aware of the fact that the clothes I was wearing before were no longer on my body, instead, the only thing even resembling a piece of fabric covering me was a thin hospital gown. The cool breeze against my bareback means someone changed me into this, and the thought of that sends a shiver up my spine, which could also be due to the fact that all I have is a piece of paper keeping me warm.

I muster enough energy to just barely lift my body, supporting my weight on my elbows. The last thing I've eaten must have been the meal I shared with Devon two days ago, and I'm starting to feel it now.

My eyes make its way to the door where one of the workers dropped off a metal tray separated into six compartments. Three were filled with varying shades of brown and gray mush, one with clearly over-cooked broccoli, and two were filled with some form of rubbery meat. All were haphazardly thrown together so there was no telling where one dish stopped and the other one began. I haven't seen food that bad since grade school.

I feel my stomach rumble beneath the gown but the smell from the tray alone has made me lose my appetite. I sit up fully and swing my legs around so that they're facing the three-by-three-inch cable set. A film of static envelopes the screen but the remote sits on the floor beneath me. I let out a deep sigh and lay back down suddenly, knocking a bit of air out of me. It's about two feet away, I think, not worth it.

I don't get much time to relish the feeling of laziness before the door opens again. It pushes the tray aside with a terrible screeching, like nails on a chalkboard, and I wince at the sound. I move my hand to my eyes and down my face before letting out an obnoxious groan. I allow myself a quick glance at the door and see it's just a guard, probably here to escort me to Cardinal Tower.

"Get up," a deep, annoyed voice commands.

I roll to the side like a toddler in protest, with the same whining tone, so that my back is facing the door. "I don't wanna," I mumble.

I hear him whip out something and a cold tip is pressed against my back. Sharp, but with only one side curved, that thing can't do more than a steak knife. With my eyes closed and brows furrowed with frustration, I grab his wrist and dig my nails into his skin until he loosens his grip. My other hand steals the blade and I sit up without letting go of his arm. His face is attempting to remain composed but the widening of his eyes suggests at least a small amount of fear. My jaw juts out as I examine the blade, my face hanging lazily. I'm not impressed. His free hand reaches for it but I slap it away flashing a look of disapproval to my hostage. His expression tenses and I feel the muscles of his hand trying to be released from my grip. My nails dig in more until I feel the wetness of blood on my fingertips. He bites his bottom lip to keep from screaming.

The blade is dulled, the handle is worn, and It's much too light to do any real damage. This thing probably can't even cut the mystery meat from the tray. But it's blunt so it could be good for something. As for the officer, low-level uniform, roughly a few years older than me, a second gen badge, and an ugly haircut. Most he could do is patrol the streets for Karma's and run at the first sign of danger. Escort, not executioner, that's for sure. I must've scared him half to death. Good.

I pull on his arm so that his body is forced against mine, our faces only a few inches apart. I reveal a wicked grin and whisper, "what were you trying to do there?"

I let out a chuckle and release his hand. My body makes its way to the door and I throw the blade behind me, hearing him stumble to catch it before rushing to my side but not daring to touch me. Smart boy. The hallway is exponentially brighter than my little cell, forcing my eyes to squint when I first walk out before re-adjusting.

The door opens into a long and narrow corridor with all of the windowless walls and floors painted bright white. It takes half a minute of walking straight before we reach the other side. The white wall then clicks when the motion sensor goes off, the center spiraling outward until the entire wall is open. I walk in without a second thought and the sound of compressed air releasing tells me that the door closed behind me. We're in a similar hallway, only now, there was a silver reflective door on either side at the very end of the walkway as well as the vague outline of a spiraling door like the previous one. We walk past both of them and through the next spiral door into a wide lab-esque room. The facility has a glass dome ceiling and a crossing pathway in the center leading in four different directions.

There were four stations divided by the pathway, each one with a different set of equipment. One contains several rows of computer monitors and a person seated at each screen. Another is lined with shelves of strange substances, meticulously labeled, polished, and organized. The third shows nearly twenty lab tables and a naked body lying on each one. Some are intact, others have their own intestines wrapped around their necks. Any normal person would gag at the sight. The fourth is completely behind glass and only a few lab coats and heavily guarded personnel are backed against the wall. One lady dons a high ponytail and a surgical mask covering everything but her eyes, and seems to be holding some type of tablet. She taps the screen a few times and a small rain cloud appears over the ceramic tiles, hovering no more than a few inches above the ground. The panel on the glass reads a warning label, and below it, "Tetra sector rain storm. Scheduled: tomorrow."

I turn my attention back towards my guide who makes a sharp left turn down the path between the computers and the autopsy tables. I feel eyes burning into every inch of my skin and I stare down avoiding anyone trying to see my face, suddenly self-conscious of my exposed body. I've never wanted my jacket more than right now.

We pass through a set of double doors that slide open when my guide punches in a five digit code. 8-4-2-7-0. I smile to myself, he can't be that stupid, can he? The double doors open into a carpeted walkway and all of the white walls and ceilings are replaced with glass. I can see the setting sun falling behind some mountains in the distance, leaving the sky streaked with ribbons of pink and gold. The rays slowly make their way past the grassy hill and stars are littered across the sky above the myriad of colors blinding me. I lift up a hand to shield my eyes, wincing as I look down to see that we're at least ten stories above the city.

My escort punches in the same five digits and the double doors open once again into an area about the same size as the lab we just passed. There are sixteen doors running around the sides of the walls and bustling suits and skirts swiftly passing to reach each one. The capitol emblem is displayed on the floor and a crest burned into each entryway. A bird, its wings spread with its beak pointed upward and three feathers on each side. One represents freedom, one represents pride, and the last represents justice. In its beak, it holds a branch representing peace and unity. I can only imagine the number of people who have forgotten what those words meant. I can barely remember them myself.

Mr. Bad Haircut grabs my arms and forces me into the door on the opposite side in which no one has dared to enter. The door closes behind me and I can hear the sound of a lock and footsteps walking away. The room I was forced into is pitch black, but after a second of staring, I could see a table in the center and a large machine at the end of it. It seems no longer than six feet in length and has a cylindrical shape, the end facing the table open and the other end closed. Tubes and wires are protruding from every orifice, and a there is a visible sheet of glass connecting the inside and the outside by just a small rectangle. My stomach drops at the thought of what these freaks might do to me, but at this point, I'd gladly die.

A single light turns on with a loud thud echoing through the clearly high ceiling. It shines at the center, illuminating the steel platform while still hiding the outer parts of the room, including half of the mysterious machine.

A soothing, yet deafeningly loud, robotic voice calls through the speaker, "Welcome, Castelle Berkeley."