Page 33 of Revenant

Gears grinding, the room drops another foot as the metal death box jerks to a stop. Even with my grip on the railing, the motion throws me to the floor. Wires stretched too tight ping harshly above me in the sudden silence, then the door screeches,sounding like a dying dinosaur on its last breath as the metal slowly opens an inch at a time.

A small room that resembles a 1950s trailer comes into view, containing a mixture of greens and oranges that clash so horribly, it hurts my eyes to look at it. I almost expect more guards to be waiting, but the room is empty.

For some reason, I’m not reassured.

While part of me doesn’t want to enter the room that time forgot, the thought of being trapped in the elevator for another minute has me climbing to my feet and stepping out. The reception area is even more terrible up close, the stench of mold, mildew, and despair filling my senses.

A metal sign is screwed into the wall with two words printed on it with arrows pointing in opposite directions. Training right, laboratory left. A chill rakes down my spine as I peer left. The hallways are dim, the dingy white walls depressing as the winding corridor disappears from view. An underground wind howls through the tunnels, and I swear the screams of patients who have long since disappeared echo down the corridor with a warning to run.

My imagination is so vivid that I nearly reach up to cover my ears to block out the tormented sound. I’m not aware I’m backing away from the horror until my foot leaves the orange paisley carpeting and I step onto stone. I’m enveloped in a darkness so complete that I’m left wondering for a second if I’m still conscious.

I clutch my chest, then whirl like something is about to grab me and drag me away…only to face an old tunnel chiseled into the very earth, the tool marks in the walls too closely resembling claw marks for my peace of mind. The passageway reminds me of the secret tunnel Gunner showed me a few hours ago. I touch the walls gingerly, gulping when the stones crumble under my fingertips.

How reassuring…

Squaring my shoulders, I inhale a deep breath of mildew and dust, then focus on the lights shimmering in the distance like a mirage to trick the unwary into entering a trap. My feet scuffle against rocks, kicking up dust with each step, but it’s not long before I enter a large cavern filled with bright lights and people.

Habit takes over, and I scan the area for threats. The room is about thirty feet across, forty feet wide, and maybe twenty feet tall, if I was being generous. While a few other tunnels branch away from the main room, I don’t sense they are exits.

The cavern is separated into three sections. Off to the right is a large mat, where a handful of people are brutally beating each other in the guise of fighting. Blood flies, sweat fills my senses, but no one even flinches as they continue to pound each other like they are mortal enemies.

It takes me a moment to recognize the people fighting are what Crystal called morphs.

They’re human…but not.

My brain just kind of hiccups over the logic, unable to compute what I’m seeing. It’s like I fell into a fucked-up, monster version of Wonderland.

One group moves faster than possible for humans, each blow flinging their opponents about like they weigh no more than a spoon. Another group has fingernails like claws and teeth that are a little too sharp, each one growling and snarling as they do their best to rip their opponents to shreds. It’s organized chaos, one that I have no hope of surviving.

While they might wear human skins, they can’t be mistaken for anything but one thing—they are morphs. They have been ruthlessly trained, their abilities impressive, and they are nothing short of vicious.

I instantly recognize that I am prey among the predators. I wrench my attention away and spot a group of guards standingin the center of the room, each of them armed to the teeth. The stun batons in their hands crackle with blue sparks that could easily put down a horse, much less a human.

To the left side of the room stands a small group of three people, and I realize that they are like me—people who have special abilities that defy nature. I’m surprised when I don’t see the doctor waiting, rubbing his hands, avarice gleaming in his eyes. Instead, the psychopath guard from upstairs is with them.

Great.

It’s all I can do not to wilt in defeat. Without being told, I know that he’s my new trainer, and I trudge reluctantly in his direction. Just as I reach the fringes of the group, his dark gaze meets mine.

“You’re late!” he snaps, a snarl of displeasure twisting his lips…if you ignore the gleam of enjoyment in his eyes at my predicament—a situation I’m positive he orchestrated on purpose just so he could punish me.

I don’t recognize anyone in the group, which consists of two girls and a single guy. The girls are in their teens, neither more than a year or two younger than me. Each of them is severely malnourished, and I’m uncertain if they have given up on life or if they’re unable to consume enough food needed to fuel their abilities. While they don’t exactly cling to each other, they do stand close together, as if that would provide them some sort of protection.

The guy is older, somewhere in his mid-twenties. I have nothing against redheads, but something about him is severely off-putting, like he was put together in an unfortunate combination of faulty DNA. His bushy red hair doesn’t look like it has been combed in a decade, the pompadour style only chosen because he was too lazy to be bothered to do anything but shave off the sides and back. The rust stain color is a tangled, greasy mess that he must think is hot. His pale skin is so pastywhite that he resembles a ghoul. He is covered in so many freckles that it makes his skin appear blotchy. While he has some muscle tone, his frame is too tall and lean, so it just makes him look gangly.

From the way he scans me from head to toe with a salacious grin, then licks his thick lips suggestively, he likes to prey on those he thinks are weaker than him. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the only way he can get female attention.

I turn away and stare straight ahead, my shoulders back, my eyes blank, desperately wishing to be anywhere else. I don’t react, don’t dare even move, but that doesn’t stop the hairs on the back of my neck from rising, like a predator has locked eyes on me.

The guard observes the interaction with sharp interest, and I’m determined not to reveal my misgivings. No matter what I do, I’m not going to escape punishment. No excuse will be acceptable, so I decide to treat the guard with the manners my father beat into me. “Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

The guard narrows his eyes like he suspects I’m mocking him, studying me for any sign of deceit. Also thanks to my father, I manage to keep my face blank and my emotions buried deep.

He stalks toward me, circling me, and it takes everything in me not to turn and keep him in view as my instincts demand. When he grabs me by the back of the neck, his grip is so hard that streaks of pain shoot down my shoulders, then up along my neck before wrapping around my skull.

He shakes me for good measure before leaning down until his harsh voice fills my head. “Unacceptable. It’s my job to turn you into a soldier. Tardiness is a punishable offense.”

He shoves me forward, and I stumble, barely able to keep my feet under me. The last thing I want is to show any vulnerability around him. He won’t hesitate to take advantage. A scowl twistshis face when he circles me again, clearly displeased I’m not on my knees before him, whimpering in pain and fear.

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