Escaping Elysia

Chapter 4 - Test Subject #354

Evita

I open my eyes to a grey, stony ceiling. I'm lying on a bed that feels like it's filled with metal springs and not much else. A light, attached to the middle of the ceiling, hurts my eyes even when I squeeze them shut. I have a killer headache, probably from whatever that man, Malcolm Brandt, drugged me with. This all feels eerily similar to yesterday - was it only yesterday? - when I woke up in the hospital bed. Except this time I'm in some kind of prison.

As the thought crosses my mind I reach instinctively for my phone, only to find my wristlet gone. In place of the light band of metal a heavier one hangs, a few centimeters thick, with a green blinking light set in the center. The dark metal makes my pale skin look paler still, evoking memories of a faint winter sunrise.

I look for some way to remove it but there's no clasp. It's too small for me to slip off, and as I try to tug it over my thumb knuckle I catch sight of an inscription on the other side. "354".

My mind flashes back to the document on Sheer's screen and I have a sinking suspicion that if I'd scrolled to the bottom, the last entry would have been number 353. I wonder if they've already edited the document to include the new addition.

If only I still had my phone, then I could call Sheer and get everything straightened out. I'm sure she doesn't know I'm in here. This whole thing must be some sort of mistake. Whatever this prison is, I don't belong here. I'm one of her top interns, not a criminal. It must have been her driver, Malcolm. He wasn't supposed to bring me here. He misunderstood.

That makes me wonder though, if she didn't order me brought here, where does she think I am? And what about Grandfather? When I didn't come home he must have called the police. He's distant, but I know I can rely on him for at least that much. The thought calms me, but only a little. Of course, someone will figure out the mistake and I'll be out of here in no time.

I tug the bracelet up one more time, and notice a small, blue dot on the inside of my wrist. I don't know how I didn't see it before. The skin there has turned red, and when I try to rub the dot it burns. What have they done to me?

My eyes fall on the door to the room. I stand, groaning at the sudden movement, and try the handle. It doesn't budge. I bang on it until my fists bruise, screaming for someone to let me out, but no one comes. My voice is hoarse.

I sit down. Another bed, identical to the one I woke up on, is pushed against the opposite wall. The only other furniture is two nightstands jammed between the beds. The walls are made of stone like the ceiling, and it's chilly. I'm no longer wearing my own clothes, but find myself in grey sweatpants and a grey t-shirt. Thick, grey socks warm my feet, but no shoes. I try not to dwell on the fact that someone must have changed me while I was unconscious, but every time the soft fabric brushes against my skin it feels like bugs creeping across the surface of my body. I feel sick to my stomach.

Before I can hurl, the door opens. Finally, someone's here. Maybe now I can get some answers. A man enters. Brandt. He's wearing the same clothes as earlier, so it must still be Friday. A holster hangs around his waist and contains a taser, like the ones the campus police carry.

It also contains a gun.

I grip the bed tightly and hold back a gasp. Policemen don't even carry guns.

"354," he says, motioning to the hallway. "Come with me." I pause. All I wanted a few minutes ago was to get out of this room, but now my stomach tenses.

Brandt grabs me by the upper arm and leads me down the hallway, too strong for me to pull away. We pass more doors that look exactly like the one we just walked through. I can't see inside, but I'd bet that these rooms are also like the one we just left. I don't see any doors that look like they might lead outside.