Wanted Girl

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: The Science Fiction Hub

Chapter 5 (v.1) - Chapter 5

Submitted: July 06, 2018

Reads: 61

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Submitted: July 06, 2018



My eyes are reluctant to open. I already know where I'll find myself. I force them open anyway, hoping like crazy the conversation I heard on the helicopter was a horrible dream.

It wasn't a dream. White walls, white ceiling, harsh white light. Any hope I had fades out altogether. I feel the tubes and wires they've put in me, connecting me to machines. So they've finally found the decency to look after me, then. I start screaming, a scream full of pain and hopelessness, screaming at the mess I'm in. The door flies open, and three people clad in white suits rush in.

"STAY AWAY!" I scream, not wanting them near me. Something inside me relaxes and I feel my body heat up, get taken over by a familiar, tingly, warm feeling. I want to get out. Maybe if I can irradiate everything in my path…

"She's hysterical! Calm her, but don't knock her out!" One of the white suit people says, and I try to get out of bed, to stand up, but my legs are weak. The room spins and I know I'm unsteady on my feet. I feel sick. I swipe at the nearest person with a highly radioactive hand, trying to keep them back. I make clumsily for the door, but there's more people with proper radiation suits on. I fall into their arms, and they force me back onto the bed, my weak struggling nothing, then jab a needle into my arm. All the fight goes out of me, and I lie on the bed, dizzy, my breath coming out in quick gasps. One of the radiation suit people gently inserts the tubes and wires I ripped off, and the pain lessens. I stare at the person with wide, scared eyes, my vision blurring as they fill up with tears. Another of the radiation suit people gently ushers the two white-suit people out of the room.

"I thought she'd still be out…I didn't think I'd need proper protection…" I hear one of them say.

"Please, let me go. I've never hurt anyone, ever. Please." I beg, looking at the person who hooked me back to the machines. I hear them sigh.

"Well, actually you've hurt two people with that power. Sweetie, we can't let you go. As soon as you're healed you're going to your room. President's orders. We've wasted six years looking for you." The person above me says, their voice hard and feminine. I hear her sigh again. "What were you thinking, getting out of bed like that?" she says, her voice softer, and I sigh. The other people look over and, seeing as the woman has me under control, leave. I feel so sick. I start crying, falling apart right there. It's hopeless. I can't escape, there's no point trying. The woman softly brushes my hair out of my eyes, smoothing it down, and wipes my tears away. Her touch feels so gentle, so caring. It makes my skin crawl.

"Don't. Don't act like you care when you don't. All you want to do is wait for me to heal so you can start experimenting on me." I sob. I don't care anymore. I want to curl up and stay like that forever.

"I…okay, so there are the…tests, yeah. But we do care. That's why you're alive. If we didn't, don't you think we would have had you exterminated?" she says, and I cringe at her falseness and euphemism. Tests?! She should try going through it sometime! I curl up on the bed, lying on my side, and turn away from her.

"How long have I been out?" I ask icily. I don't want her touch, her care, when she doesn't mean it. I let my levels rise again, telling her to back off, keep away, through my body.

"A couple of months." The woman replies briskly, then she finally gets the message and leaves me alone.

I zone out for most of the day, if it's even daytime. In here, there's no windows, no clock, no way to measure the time. People come in from time to time, checking on me, taking the machines I don't need, getting ready to move me. Someone gives me food at some point, but I end up throwing it straight back up, so no-one else tries. I feel sick and sweaty and shivery at the same time. I swear they've done something to me whilst I was out.

After a while, I hear two people come in. I don't turn, don't let on to them.

"This is 248?" I hear one of them say, then the scrape of chair legs against the floor. I hate the way they give us numbers. It's hurtful, like I'm not a person in here. Well, when you're the government's lab rat, I guess they don't see you as a person.

"Yes." The other person says. They sit down next to my bed.

"Hello, 248. Could you please turn around?" One of them asks, and I do as they say, scowling at them.

"Actually, it's Phoebe, not 248. I have a name, you know. Use it. What do you want?" I snap, and they look surprised for a second, then regain their composures. One person is dressed in medical clothing, and the other is wearing a suit. There's not a radiation suit in sight. If I promised myself I never would use my power for that, I could kill them both in an instant and try to run again.

"Okay…Phoebe." Suit Guy says, saying my name like it's in quotation marks. His black hair is clipped short and his dark, snake-like eyes glitter. I roll my eyes, and let my levels rise just a little, teasingly, and note the nervousness in their eyes as they realize they've been stupid to not get protection before seeing me. "Anyway, how are you feeling?" Suit Guy continues, and I roll my eyes again.

"Like crap." I reply, staring them down. On the outside, I'm hostile, cocky and confident, self-assured, but on the inside, I'm terrified, breaking down, lonely, desperate. I mean, wouldn't you feel like that if you were radioactive with a nuclear war hanging over you and trapped in the government's labs, completely at their mercy?

"Okay…well, that's understandable. When you…came to us, you were pretty…beat up. I know you're feeling a bit sick, but that should clear up soon. Right, we just came to move you to your room, as you're fully healed from your injuries." Medical Guy explains, and I snort.

"When I came to you?! Pretty beat up?! Um, excuse me, I know I was in a pretty bad car crash, but that does not mean I have amnesia! I know what state I came into this…this…this place in! Why don't we try internal bleeding, deep, serious injuries, blood transfusions, hours of surgery and broken ribs that needed setting? Yeah, just because I was unconscious it doesn't mean I couldn't hear you. And why don't we try when you hunted me and just got lucky because some idiot was speeding faster than I was? Why don't we bring up the electro-shock and brain surgery while we're at it? I was in that car crash BECAUSE I WAS TRYING TO GET AWAY FROM YOU!" I scream the last few words, my anger boiling over. It takes a lot to get me mad, but when I do…you'd better watch out. The two men look scared stiff and shocked. My radiation levels creep up a little more, almost passing the "safe" point for normal people.

"Okay, Phoebe. Calm down, and follow Mr. Johnson to your room." Medical Guy indicates to Suit Guy. I sit up, swing my legs out of bed, and stand.

The room starts to spin and my legs can just about hold my weight up. I stumble, and Mr. Johnson grabs me. If my legs were stronger I'd shake him off, teach him not to touch me ever again, but because this is me we're talking about, I'm not exactly in any position to do that.

"Smith, should she be leaving right now? She can barely stand." Mr. Johnson says to Medical Guy, and he nods.

"Yes, she'll be fine after a couple days' rest in her room. It's just because she's been lying down for so long." Smith says, and Mr. Johnson shrugs, and leads me out of the room, half carrying me. We walk down endless steel grey corridors to the cell floor, and I'm led into my old room. Mr. Johnson helps me to my bed, and I sit down, glaring at him.

"Don't ever touch me again." I growl, and he nods, looking nervous.

"Okay then." He says, then leaves, shutting the heavy steel door closed behind him, sealing me off from the world, leaving me alone. The room is the same steel grey color as the corridors, with a high ceiling. My bed is pushed against the wall at one side, and there's a cubicle on the other side with a toilet and sink inside it. I look up and see a camera angled so it can see the rest of the room but not the toilet area, and a tiny, barred window high above me. The tiny patch of sky I can see is a beautiful gold-red, making me think of the summer that's being wasted, making me feel more alone.

I turn away from the window and cry until I eventually fall asleep.

© Copyright 2019 The Lone Wanderer. All rights reserved.


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