The Radical Chronicles

Chapter 6

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“It’s in the failings and miscalculations of our youth that we draw strength as adults. ‘Learn from your mistakes,’ as the saying goes. It’s through these moments we gain valuable insights. I learned at a young age not to underestimate our enemy – nor to underestimate my own will to live.”

Radical Archive – excerpt from the Reclamation Program commentaries, contributed by Veronica Quibs

Though she was constantly aware of it, Veronica never ceased to be amazed at the lack of reality in the facility. Just hours prior she assisted in a large scale prisoner escape and led the entire staff into chaos; now though, they seemed normal, calm, and ready to move on with the day. Veronica went about her regular evening routines – a shower, an hour of meditation, and a change into her evening dinner wear.

As she slipped the intricate white dress over her head, Veronica thought to herself about what she’d say – and what she’d be able to say aloud – to Molly’s friends. Her mere presence at dinner would say a lot, but she wanted to let them know more. She wanted to tell them Molly might be okay. She pulled an interwoven lace lattice wrap over her bare shoulders, draping it over the white patterned dress. Looking at herself in the full length mirror on the bathroom door inside her lonely suite, Veronica felt like a child bride – an intentional image the facility superimposed on the young women to hammer in gender role mentality.

Strolling down the residence hallway toward the general living area, Veronica took note of every adult she passed. Each one wore the same vacant expression, pushing about their daily duties nearly without thought. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Veronica knew something didn’t add up – people just didn’t switch their personalities and emotions on and off at will.

Having prepared a reaction for the monitoring hub after her earlier outburst about Molly, Veronica took a deep breath and put on a smile before approaching and passing the station en route to the common area. She expected at very least an acknowledgement of her grief, or perhaps a question about how she was doing after hearing the news. The woman behind the counter – the same woman who acted so callous toward her that very morning before the escape – barely registered Veronica’s presence as she passed. Veronica smiled widely, nodded while she passed, and made a mental note of the encounter. Something definitely seemed wrong.

When she finally reached the convocation hall (which doubled as a dining hall during meals), everyone appeared to be chattering and eating as if nothing happened at all that day, big or small. Only one table sat in silent shock as Veronica entered – her table of misfits.

Seeing her enter, Corey stood and rushed over. “Miss Veronica!” Knowing everyone would be watching them, he didn’t want to overdo it. “You’re looking smashing this evening.”

“Thank you Corey, as are you.” She smiled. “Would you show me to my seat please?” They walked together toward the table acting as calmly as their anxious young bodies would allow.

“What happened?” Corey whispered. “You two didn’t attend evening meal last night or anything today.”

“Molly and I did it,” Veronica whispered back. “They caught her, and I escaped.”

Corey’s face contorted into a mix of horror and shock. “Oh my lord! Miss Molly!”

“She’s alright. They sedated her and put her in our suite overnight, but took her sometime after I fell asleep.” Veronica paused as Corey helped her into a seat and pushed in her chair. After waiting for him to take a seat opposite her she continued, “I found out this morning and put a stop to it all.”

Alex interrupted, “Wait, you actually went through with it last night?”

Veronica nodded. “They told me at the monitoring station that she was in a restricted medical ward, which I figured meant regression.”

Sylvia shook her head back and forth as if in denial. “No no no…I can’t…”

Jenny reached out and squeezed her hand. “Hey, at least she wasn’t stamped a program reject.”

Veronica’s head lowered almost involuntarily. “She was…rejected, that is. After they wouldn’t let me see her, I went after Chad on my own.”

“You what?” Corey asked, cocking his head sideways. “Miss Veronica, what exactly did you do?”

“I went to the basement…a place they call the cellar. I found room after room of captive rejects they experiment on regularly. I went down to rescue Chad. I really can’t say why I went right then… but it felt like something I had to do.” Veronica looked up through tear-filtered eyes.

“And?” Alex asked.

“She was there. They classified Molly as a program reject,” Veronica said.

The group collectively gasped. Veronica waited for their commentary whispers to die down before she broke the semi-good news to them.

“I helped her and Chad escape, along with a lot of others.”

“You what?” Corey said, still shocked. “And how exactly did you do this?”

“With the help of another prisoner…his name is Benjamin.”

Jenny’s eyes lit up. “Benjamin? Benjamin Krane?”

Veronica nodded. “Yes, that’s the one. You know him?”

“He was one of the misfits briefly, a long while ago. He and Corey were here together before any of us in fact. They are two of the oldest program survivors,” Alex said. “If you met him, I can see why you were able to help the others.” Alex smiled.

“It looks like my little firecracker has a mighty blast,” Corey said. “So they all got out?”

Veronica nodded again. “I got them out and directed them to the sewer hub to get them into the city…and gave them the locations of a few safe houses. Chad and Benjamin are taking care of Molly for us.” She decided not to bring up the trouble they ran into just yet.

Smiles and sighs of relief spread across the table. They spent the remainder of their dinner happily discussing non-topics – something they’d all learned to do exceedingly well in their time at the facility. Those who could talk their way out of a ticket back to phase one survived longer than those who fought back against the staff.

Just before the convocation hall bells chimed at the hour – signaling the end of dinner – one of the staff approached the front of the room and walked up the small wooden stairs to the stage. She peered down at each of the countless round tables containing different mixes of children representing a wide range of ages and backgrounds. She waited for a stage light to come up, and then for the room to go silent before speaking.

“Good evening children, I’m Inquisitor Kinsley. As at least one of you is aware, we had an incident inside the facility this morning,” she said. She made eye contact with each table, one by one, weeding out the guilty from the innocent in her head based on reactions. “For those of you without knowledge of the incident, one of your fellow residents took it upon himself or herself to break into a medical wing of our building, free sick patients from their beds, and create a medical and security situation for our facility.”

Corey, Alex, Sylvia, and Jenny peered at Veronica out of the corners of their eyes, afraid to take their total attention and eye contact away from the woman on stage. Veronica suddenly felt foolish for not telling them the entire story.

“Let it be known to whichever one of you instigated this that we had to take drastic measures to ensure the safety of this facility once sick children began running toward the border wall outside the building. Though we’ve not been able to retrieve them yet, we have teams searching the border wall and adjoining areas to bring them back. Serious manpower is being devoted to this endeavor. This feat of terrorism against our facility will not go unpunished.” The woman began smiling - a creepy knowing smile that seemed to make everybody in the room sit on the edge of his and her seat with neck hair raised.

“Thankfully, the perpetrator left a telling clue behind. Hidden in a supply room near this very convocation hall, one of our staff found a torn tunic belonging to the one who committed this heinous act against the facility and against his fellow residents. It may take time, but we will trace this back to the culprit, and that person will pay. Now please, head back to your residence hallways and try to calmly go about your evening.” The woman smiled again – the same disturbing smile that would never be forgotten by anyone sitting in the room.

Veronica and her friends knew better than to talk then; they’d have to wait for integration therapy the following day when they’d all see one another again. While a sea of whispers created waves through the hall, Veronica’s table sat and waited patiently for everyone to begin leaving toward their residence halls. They forced smiles and spoke of literature they had little interest in – all an act to ensure the watchful eye of the creepy staff woman didn’t fix itself on their table.

When it was their turn to leave, Veronica’s table stood simultaneously, pushed in their chairs, and walked toward the exit door. Just before they’d all made it out safely, Inquisitor Kinsley approached and stood blocking their exit. Up close, they saw her dry, brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. On stage it seemed like big brown ball sitting atop her head; up close the illusion dissipated, leaving the reality: a middle-aged woman with bad hair, a lack of laugh lines, and crows feet extending frighteningly far from her eyes – something that made Veronica believe the woman squinted and glared way too often.

“If you’ll pardon me ladies and gentlemen, I need to speak with one of your group for a moment,” she said. She pointed her gaze at Corey. “Mister Smith, would you please join me in my office before heading back to your suite?” She smiled again, nodded to the rest of the group, and pulled Corey by his elbow out of the convocation hall.

The group’s collective gaze focused on Veronica. Though they could say nothing, Veronica received the message loud and clear: this was her fault. After walking through the doorway into the outer hallway, Veronica tried to hear the conversation transpiring a few paces away. Corey stood, arms flailing in his typical manner, refuting accusations. The Inquisitor stood firmly, hands on her hips, and spoke in a calm, cool manner.

The staff outside the door began herding Veronica’s group faster now as they all stopped or slowed to gawk at the conversation. Veronica gave up trying to eavesdrop, continued forward, and eventually made it back to her vacant-feeling suite to live with the consequences of her actions. How could they suspect Corey? The pale white skin along her lower torso had shown through when she covered her hair – an obvious anomaly in Corey’s case considering his contrasting skin color. Something still didn’t add up.

That night, Veronica lay awake in bed unable to sleep because of the evening’s events. Thoughts of Corey and the others she stayed behind to save struggled against the twist of fate in possibly dooming those very friends by way of staying. Tossing and turning in her cot masquerading as a bed, Veronica nearly missed the commotion outside her suite sometime after midnight. Veronica slipped quietly out of her bed, tip-toed across the cold, dark floor and pressed her ear against the door, cupping her hand against her ear to assist.

“We know it wasn’t the boy Dualla,” an older female voice said.

“Order must be maintained. We know it wasn’t him, and the girl or boy down there will know it wasn’t him; none of the rest of the undesirables will though. They’ll see swift retribution for the crime I spoke of at dinner.” The woman who spoke earlier – the Inquisitor - had to be smiling. Veronica could hear it in her voice.

“What of the experiments? It will take us months to achieve maximum capacity again. And the controls! Do you know how long it took us to find desirable candidates?” said the older voice again. Veronica knew the voice, and worked at placing it with a face.

“Graduate a few of the upper levels early and begin advancing the rest quickly. We’ll increase inflow into this facility and bring in more candidates while boosting our success ratio.”

“What if the CJ Guild begins questioning us?” she asked. Veronica knew it now – she could clearly see her face. Dualla was Madam Crellar’s first name.

“We have authority much higher than theirs. We’re Section 7, Dualla – we answer to the royal family, not any one government guild. This facility exists only to advance the royal agenda… the reclamation face only serves to give us cover… no more.”

“Yes, but they can still create problems for us,” Madam Crellar said. “Perhaps we should stop the experiments for now.”

Veronica heard a sharp slap – perhaps a hand meeting a cheek. Whatever the case, Veronica knew it was the woman’s answer to Madam Crellar’s question.

“We continue as planned. As for our little trouble maker… let him or her stew a little longer. The culprit has to be one of that group of potential rejects that all hang together. Sooner or later one of them will slip up… and then we’ll go from there.”

Veronica swallowed hard. They knew them all well enough to point them out. She’d have to talk to the others as soon as possible to let them know what she heard.

“What about Veronica? She seems to be incidental in this because of her initial placement. She was introduced to them, and hasn’t made the initiative to branch out since then,” Madam Crellar said.

“Perhaps. Perform a reevaluation on her in a week after this has died down some, and then assign one of the upper levels to her suite. We’ll see if that changes anything.” Her voice began trailing off as the two walked down the hallway toward the monitoring hub.

Veronica slid down the door slowly, hands and knees scraping against the industrial –strength door. This made some sense – but not in a good way. She’d read something about Section 7 in the director’s office – about how they were experimenting on children to ensure the success of the inoculation program. This though – this made it seem like so much more. Veronica didn’t know what to think.

Once she reached the floor, Veronica sat staring into the darkness across her suite, trying to make sense of a senseless universe. In those silent, thoughtful moments, Veronica reached to the very edges of her young thought processes to try to find a solution – or even a definite path. At that point, she would’ve been fine with finding a wooded trail through the forest.

Thankfully, one thing repeatedly stuck out in her mind every time she tried to wrap her head around the problem… something Madam Crellar said. Madam Crellar indicated that Veronica seemed normal, and that she just needed to be given a chance. Perhaps that’s what everyone else needed too – a chance. And the Inquisitor gave her an idea of how she’d go about doing it. After that, she’d just have to be sure Corey was fine, and she could begin sleeping at night again.

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Veronica began explaining her strategy to everyone. As she sat at her regular convocation hall breakfast table, Veronica could feel the eyes of the staff fixated on her and the others – like she and her friends had big red landing lights strapped to their heads. Whether from undue paranoia or justified anxiety, Veronica prayed this plan would work – she couldn’t live like this for too much longer.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Sylvia said. “Jenny and I have never been apart. Plus, we’re suite mates.”

Veronica nodded. “I know, but we have to try. And look at it this way: you still get to see one another at the end of every evening.” Veronica turned to Alex. “You’ve been too quiet… what’s your take on this?”

Alex shrugged his shoulders. “I’m okay with it… especially if it saves all of our asses.”

“Good, because starting tomorrow, we all sit with different people. We meet new people. We blend in better. For all they know, we’ll be just another rehabilitated kid just like the other zombies here,” Veronica said. “If they can’t pick one of us out as the culprit, they’ll have to graduate us all.”

“What about Corey?” Jenny asked.

“Let me worry about helping him,” Veronica said. “I got him into this, and I’ll find a way to get him out. You worry about blending. By this time tomorrow, we’ll all be proper little machines.”

Veronica and her friends spent the remainder of the day trying not to make their plans painfully obvious. They kept tearful hugs to a minimum, tried not to spend every moment together reminiscing, and worked at keeping focused on their plan. They tried to make that day as normal as any other day – a nearly seamless transition to their new lives the next day.

All the while, Veronica plotted. She sat through lunch alone, staring at her food. Regardless of her own warnings to her friends that they should act normal, she couldn’t fathom not talking to any of them again… and more so, couldn’t imagine how she’d figure out where Corey was being held, let along how to save him. It was being lost in her thoughts that prevented Veronica from seeing Madam Crellar’s approach.

“My dear, are you alright?” she asked.

Startled, Veronica sat up straight and tried to feign nonchalance. “Yes Madam Crellar.”

She shook her head. “My dear, I think we need to introduce you to some new friends to get you past this Molly situation. It’s hindering your integration.”

Veronica willed herself not to jump up and down in utter joy. She sat on her hands, bit her tongue, and counted to ten in her head before nodding slowly and agreeing solemnly. “I just wish I could be like the other successful girls in the facility. I just want to do good.”

Madam Crellar cooed. “Oh dear, I know. I’m not supposed to tell you this yet, but we’re working at getting you a new suite mate. Perhaps that will help you meet some new people and move on past this.” She patted Veronica’s back lovingly.

Veronica knew her plan would work out – she knew they’d fall for it. She only had to get to Corey now that everyone else’s fate seemed to be sealed. After lunch, Veronica rushed out of the convocation hall, down the residence corridor, and to her suite. She had to prepare herself for a blind shot in the dark – a chance she’d have to risk in getting Corey out alive. She had to believe they sent him to the phase one medical ward for regression therapy again. Based on what she’d heard, it made sense.

She pulled a small shoulder bag out of her closet, packed a set of clothes, extra clothes in case she had to cover herself up again, contraband snacks she’d collected from meals as just-in-case escape food, and the addresses to safe houses in Seattle. She’d ensure Corey made it out safely – even if it meant she had to forfeit her own freedom.

Rather than waiting for dinner, Veronica went about her regular evening activities – not even letting on to her friends what she intended to do; the fewer people who knew the better. When midnight rolled around, Veronica waited for the overnight bed check – a familiar crack of light from the hallway penetrating the room for five seconds while the night staff counted bodies in beds. She waited half an hour to give them enough time to return to their stations, and then she pulled on slippers and began her plan.

At first it all seemed too easy. After slipping through the facility several times prior undetected, she knew when to move and where to hide in avoiding guards, cameras, and staff inspections. She glided gracefully down memorized corridors until she reached unfamiliar territory – and then moved based on posted wall signs. The beige walls gave way to faded white-wash walls with lime green trim. Along several walls she saw she same maroon placards she saw downstairs – including the same white text with directional arrows. She followed the signs down a maze of unfamiliar hallways until she arrived outside the main entrance to the medical ward.

The regression medical ward presented a whole new set of challenges though. For starters, she could see guards posted on the interior. Also, the cameras didn’t pivot back and forth. She’d have to maneuver outside their sight radius – a challenge in itself outside of having to get around guards.

Since she’d come that far, Veronica decided to plunge forward regardless of the outcome. She opened the small brown shoulder bag, pulled out one of the extra white tunics, and wrapped it around her head to cover her hair and eyebrows. She pulled a scarf out and drew it around her face and neck, leaving only her eyes exposed.

As she prepared, Veronica glanced around at the walls and doors trying to find a way to draw out the guards. Salvation arrived in the form of a fire lever toward the middle of the hallway. Big, red, and obvious against the pale colors around it, the fire alarm would be her ticket into the medical ward – and hopefully the distraction she’d need to get back to her room undetected once all hell broke out.

As her delicate fingers grazed the alluring red lever, Veronica closed her eyes, held her breath, and crossed the fingers of her other hand. She dug her index and middle fingers behind the level, yanked, and waited as it descended. Seconds later emergency lights flashed, sirens blared, and as predicted, all hell began to break loose. Knowing she’d have to make herself scarce, Veronica ducked into a director’s office a few paces away from the alarm and waited as the hallway filled with guards and a handful of overnight nurses meant to monitor those in the ward. As they filtered down the hallway quickly working their way toward the nearest hub, Veronica peered out a crack in the door waiting on her opportunity.

When the flow of adults stopped, she wrenched the door open and lunged toward the medical ward entrance. Given the current state of things, Veronica thought speed and timing should take precedence over precision and accuracy, so she ran past each camera’s line of sight without hesitation. Most of the beds seemed to be occupied, making her job all the more difficult and time consuming. She had to believe he was there though – Corey said it himself. He had a quality they needed – whether it was his skin color or his eternal resistance to their inoculations. They wouldn’t just banish him to the basement.

“What are you doing here?” a man said. The voice came from somewhere behind Veronica.

She turned to see who was speaking and came face to covered-face with one of the overnight nurses. “You’re not supposed to be here,” Veronica said.

“Neither are you,” he replied.

“I can outrun you if I need to,” she said calmly.

“And I can call the guards back here. They’d intercept you before you made it out of this wing of the building,” he said. His stern face made Veronica believe he was telling the truth.

“I need to help a friend, that’s all. I’m not here to cause you any trouble,” Veronica said.

“That’s the problem though you see… that is trouble.”

Veronica scanned tables and beds around her as she spoke, looking for something – anything – to assist her. “So where do we go from here?” she asked. She began slowing backing away from the man.

“I think you should give yourself up now while no one is hurt,” he said.

Veronica finally hit the side of one of the beds she backed up so far. Peering down, she saw a large metallic bed pan beside her feet. “I came a long way to help my friend, so I don’t think that’s an option.” She maintained eye contact with him as she quickly bent down and grabbed the bed pan from the floor.

“What do you think you’re…”

Veronica whipped the contents of the pan at him at full force, interrupting both his speech and sturdy stance. He tipped backward, falling to the floor. Veronica waited for him to hit the floor before leaping forward. As he flailed on the floor, wiping his face with his shirt, Veronica used the full force of her body to swing the large metal bed pan against the nurse’s head. With a large thump and an anti-climactic thud against the floor, the nurse drifted into unconsciousness.

Veronica stood up from the messy floor, looked around at the mess she created, and stifled an oncoming anxiety attack. Though the flashing lights and sirens seemed to fade to the background during the confrontation, Veronica knew she was working on borrowed time. She looked around her, running from bed to bed calling out Corey’s name. Toward the last row of beds inside the first ward wing, she finally found him.

Lying in the bed asleep, he seemed out of place. Veronica only knew Corey as a vivacious, loud extrovert. She shook Corey’s shoulder to wake him up hoping he wasn’t too tranquilized.

“Girl, what you doin’?” he said. “I’m awake!”

Veronica laughed. “The old ‘I’m not really asleep’ routine… I like it.”

“I was so over those tranquilizers! I figured if I pretended to be asleep, I could get a little time awake to myself to think about things.”

“Well I’m getting you out of here,” Veronica said. “I brought you an escape bag full of things you’ll need.”

“You really were raised by a doomsday cultist, weren’t you Miss Veronica?” he said smiling.

“You knew it was me?” she asked.

“You’re the only one brave enough and crazy enough sweet pea. And I love you for it. Now help me out of these restraints!”

Events and time seemed to mesh together after that. Remembering it later in life, Veronica would recall getting Corey to an exit door and giving him the bag while explaining where to go. She’d remember waiting a few extra moments to make sure he ran in the right direction. She’d recall seeing the newly installed motion sensor spotlights activate at some point in his sprint. She’d vaguely recall hearing the gun shots and his scream. And she’d remember the contrast of red stain on white tunic – an image she’d never be able to push to the back of her head. She remembered realizing phase three would be the only way out of the facility alive, and that she had to make it back to her suite immediately.

The trip back to her suite seemed instantaneous, although she was sure some obstacles arose along the way. With a building full of sirens, flashing fire lights, and chaos, obstacles were bound to appear. The gap in her memory gave her solace though – a piece of the past she didn’t have to dwell over constantly.

Back in Veronica’s residence hallway, girls lined the hallways wondering what was going on with the fire alarms. As the staff worked to verify the authenticity of the alarm, they chattered and gossiped about who pulled it and why. Veronica remembered slipping into the crowd undetected and trying to talk, but sobbing each time she opened her mouth. Images of red and white swirled in her fatigued head, pushing the image of her fallen friend into her line of sight. With her waking sight, she could see Corey in front of her even in the hallway as she waited on the staff to give the all clear.

Veronica knew she could never tell Alex, Sylvia, or Jenny what happened. She felt suddenly thankful they wouldn’t all be together constantly anymore. She needed space and unfamiliar faces. Those would be the only things that would carry her through to phase three – and through the end of her time at the facility. She’d have to bury the activist inside her that night and become the drone they needed her to be…the drone she needed herself to be in order to survive.

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