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Chapter 28 |
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“Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose…and sometimes, we just get lucky.” Radical Archive – excerpt from the Life as a Radical commentaries
Darkness and silence filled Veronica’s eyes and ears. The low hum of the mag-train’s movement no longer filled the air, signaling some sort of stop, whether for passenger pick-up or journey’s end. The acrid smell of salt in the air answered that question though, telling her she was indeed at the Seattle train yards. Veronica stretched and waited for her eyes to adjust before she attempted to move around. When she stood, Veronica finally began hearing noises from the outside world. Above her, ever-so-gently, a light rain tapped across the roof of the baggage car. Somewhere toward the center of the massive black storage area, Veronica could also hear what could only be the beginning of the unlocking process for some external door so the stewards could unload the luggage for the disembarking passengers. She had to think quickly. She wouldn’t have time to navigate the cluttered car all the way to the adjoining car door on the opposite side of the room. That left two options: up or fight. She scanned the ceiling, looking for any sort of emergency escape hatch, and finally saw the familiar square hatch outline not too far away. On either side of the square outline, manual release clamps jutted out, as if they were waiting for her escape effort. Veronica worked quickly, pushing the crate she’d been hiding behind closer to the hatch. Once she had it in position, Veronica worked at stacking smaller pieces of luggage on top of the crate to help her reach the release clamps. The entire process took no more than a minute, but that minute felt like an eternity as Veronica listened to the voices outside the car getting louder as passengers disembarked and awaited their luggage outside the rear car. She reached up with both hands and gripped the clamps firmly, using them both to attempt to open the hatch as well as maintain her balance on the luggage haphazardly stacked below her. She maneuvered and pulled and tugged every which direction she could muster, but the hatch didn’t seem to want to budge an inch. Behind her, the door’s final locking mechanism clicked and the door began descending, with its built-in staircase for the train staff to climb up into the caboose. Veronica felt a surge of adrenaline rush through her body as fear took over. She closed her eyes and yanked as hard as she could, using the weight of her body for leverage. The clamps both released simultaneously, launching the hatch into the air several feet above the train car. She waited a moment for the airborne hatch door to land, listening for the inevitable thump. As it came crashing down on the wet, metallic exterior a few seconds later, the train yard outside the train seemed to go completely silent for a moment. “Oh shit,” she whispered to herself. Veronica flung herself into the opening, trying to climb onto the train car’s roof before they could spot her. If she could get up there and slide down the other side before anyone saw her, chances were good that she could blend into the crowd. With her arms pulling the upper half of her body through the opening, Veronica could feel the muscles through out her body aching, begging for respite. The slippery train roof didn’t seem to be helping matters either. When she felt the first set of hands grab her legs, Veronica knew she was in trouble. “Come down from there at once!” an angry male voice commanded. Out of reflex more than rational thought, Veronica kicked back, struggling against the antagonistic hands grabbing and pulling at her from inside the train car. Outside, the rain shower began intensifying, pelting Veronica’s face and upper body, making it all the more difficult to grip the roof well enough to pull her body the rest of the way through the hatch opening. A brief glance over the roof into the train yards revealed an eerily familiar sight nearly identical to the one she’d dreamed about, complete with the storm raging above. Only now, instead of being ignored by everyone around her, the entirety of the immediate vicinity seemed to be staring intently up at the scene she was causing. “You have ten seconds to comply; otherwise force will be applied,” the same gruff male voice barked. The darkness around her lit up as a thunderbolt danced across the starless night sky. The train car below her felt increasingly hostile as canes and prods poked at her legs and torso trying to knock her back down through the hatch opening. She wanted to scream out for them to stop, but staying half in and out of the hatch was taking every ounce of willpower she could muster. This was it – she wasn’t making it away from this. All of the subterfuge, all of the traveling…all of it just for the battle to end here. Before the world went black, Veronica remembered looking down at the faces in the stunned crowd of train passengers. The smell of burning seemed to be floating in the air…but what was it? Burning flesh? Yes, that’s what it had to be. The close-range taser-shock knocked her out as the voltage hit her exposed skin. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell lifelessly back down into the storage car, into the arms of the security agents waiting to apprehend her. * * * “Miss Quibs,” a voice said from the depths of Veronica’s consciousness. She could hear the male voice pulling her out of the murky, heavy darkness, back into the waking world. Veronica opened her eyes and waited for her vision to adjust to the dim lighting. She realized immediately she was sitting upright in a chair – a departure from her last memory of dangling from the roof of the train car. All at once, the memory of her last waking moments flooded her mind, mixing with anxiety-driven adrenaline. Her heartbeat increased and her breathing became shallow and quick. “I know you’re awake, answer me,” the man said. She could hear him clearly now that she was awake. “There’s no use in being rude about it,” she muttered. Veronica looked up from her lap and saw the burly man for the first time, sitting in a chair across a small metallic table. He wore CJ Guild fatigues, had a surly demeanor, and displayed his blaster freely as an antagonistic interrogation tool. Veronica knew this situation. She looked up and around the room to confirm her suspicions. No larger than a closet, the room had just enough space for the table and chairs, and a camera and microphone focused exclusively on her. She knew she was deep inside one of the CJ Guild custody buildings… the places she and others like her had heard about but never seen since no one comes back alive after arriving in them. “What are you doing here?” he asked. It occurred to her belatedly that the soldier knew her name despite her forged documents. “I know my rights. What am I being accused of here?” He laughed. “Don’t play stupid little girl. You’re a known terrorist that bombed a government facility in this very city. It rose more than a few eyebrows when you were apprehended today at the train yard. Now do you want to tell me what you’re doing here, or do I have to convince you?” He paused to crack his knuckles and flash a crude smile. “Honestly though, I’m hoping you fight back a little. I’d love to take a stab at breaking you.” Veronica swallowed hard. “I just wanted to come home,” she said quietly. “Likely story.” He leaned in toward Veronica, breathing heavily, and began speaking in a low, hushed tone. “I’ll do things to you that would make a rapist blush if you don’t start telling me the truth.” Veronica stared the man down, looking into his eyes without wavering. “All I see is a big man making a lot of hot air.” She sucked in air quickly through her teeth as she called his bluff. The increasingly angry interrogator flew up off his seat, pushing the table in one quick jerking motion as his body clumsily became airborne. The heavy metal table separating the two lurched forward, ramming Veronica’s body and the chair below her. A loud, primal scream boomed from the red-faced man as he landed on the table mere inches from Veronica’s face. She wouldn’t realize this though as the impact from the table began an irreversible chain of events that would ultimately save her life. The push from the table impact sent Veronica flying backward, chair and all, to the hard cement floor. Anticipating the impact, she craned her head forward as far as it would go to prevent any sort of head injury. She closed her eyes, waited for the sound of the chair hitting the ground, and then quickly laid her head down on the ground and tried to remain motionless. She took in shallow breaths, and waited. Above her, the monster growled and snarled with little clue that she’d fallen. The next few moments flew by so quickly, Veronica would have a hard time remembering them all later. Seconds after Veronica hit the floor a door behind her swung open, hitting the wall with the sheer force of the entry. Screaming voices competed for dominance. She could make out claims of threats to manhood and doing the job he was hired for somewhere amidst screaming admonitions and mentions of orders to keep her alive to get information out of her. Veronica used every ounce of will power she had not to smile. “Take her to the lab. May as well get the treatment in before she wakes up so we don’t have to fight her there too,” a female voice said. Hands…hands, arms, limbs, and devices seemed to pull, prod, and poke every inch of Veronica’s intentionally limp body. She had to focus on the voices in the hallways and rooms she seemed to be shuffling quickly through so as not to arouse suspicion. She needed to know more about where she was, what they were intending to do, and who was in charge – and faking sleep or being knocked out seemed to be the best way to do that. They hadn’t even checked to see if she really did hit the floor hard enough to be knocked unconscious in their heated arguing. “She was in the Seattle facility according to these notes,” another female voice said. “Wasn’t that the seven site?” “Seven site?” a man asked. “Oh you’ve heard of them… that sect that does all the weird experimentation,” the woman said. “This is apparently the girl who blew that place up.” “Well between you and me, good riddance. The whole concept of experimentation on kids is just disgusting.” The woman laughed. “You’re a walking contradiction Russ.” “Hey now, adults are different. Plus, this isn’t experimentation. It’s solidly tested chemical therapy approved by the Royal family themselves to reintegrate offenders back into society,” he said defensively. “Call it what you will, it’s not too far off what they were doing there,” she said. The room went silent save for the gurney wheels below Veronica. When the rolling noises stopped, she strained her ears to try to hear them. She needed to know if they were still in the room before she opened her eyes and ruined her perfect eavesdropping cover. A few seconds before she threw caution to the wind, a breathing mask pressed against her face, answering the lingering question. “Up for coffee? We have a few minutes to kill waiting on sleeping beauty here,” he said. His female counterpart must have nodded since Veronica didn’t hear a response. She did hear their footsteps leading out of the room, and the distinct sound of a door closing. She waited a few seconds, giving them enough time to walk away from the room, and then opened her eyes and attempted to sit up on the gurney. The latter effort didn’t quite work…in her effort to appear unconscious and lifeless, they’d apparently managed to strap her down effortlessly. She was effectively trapped on the gurney, captive victim to whatever chemicals they were pumping through the breathing mask. Behind her, she heard the door open mid-struggle to unbuckle her restraints. Knowing she was busted, Veronica didn’t bother to feign sleep as it’d be a moot point; rather she smirked at the computer-embedded wall in front of her. “Should’ve known you two were waiting on me to react,” she said. “We don’t have much time,” a familiar male voice said. Veronica couldn’t place it to a face, but she never forgot a voice…especially one so soothing yet commanding. “Are you?” she asked hesitantly. Ben rounded the gurney and smiled down at Veronica with his big, glassy eyes she remembered so vividly from their brief time together in the bowels of the Seattle facility. He held a small tablet in his right hand, wore a white robe, and looked only slightly older than the last time she remembered seeing him so many years earlier. “It was you,” she said more confidently. “Yes,” he said simply. “How?” “It’s a long story. For now though, we have more pressing matters to discuss.” He sat down on the side of her gurney and began laying out his plan. |
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The Radical Chronicles is Copyright © 2009 by Tim Peacock.
