Chapter 22: Go In

Liz shivered as Fallow unlocked the cuffs around her wrists. Blinking, she looked at the woman's face. Her features faded in and out of focus. A wave of nausea swept through Liz's stomach, and she had to clench the sidebar to steady herself.

"Are you okay?" Fallow asked.

Liz flinched as a hand touched her shoulder. "Don't!" she growled, leaning back.

Closing her eyes, Liz willed her stomach to settle, then opened them again. To her relief, the features of Fallow's face finally snapped into place. She blinked again, surprised to see the dark rings beneath the woman's eyes, the patchwork of tiny cracks across the skin of her cheeks, the thin red capillaries threading her eyes. Her head swam; she had never noticed so much detail in a person's face before.

"I'm sorry." Liz's ears twitched at the sound, before a harsh shriek cut through the words.

She recoiled, slapping her hands over her ears. Distantly she heard the doctor's voice over the ringing. A hand reached for her, but she twisted, falling sideways on the bed. Fallow paused, staring down at her, and then retreated a step.

Slowly the ringing died away, and Liz finally removed her hands from her ears.

"I'm sorry." Fallow's voice was a whisper now, but Liz heard it with perfect clarity. "How do you feel?"

Gritting her teeth, Liz glanced across at Chris. As their eyes met her heart lurched, and she felt again the relief that had swept through her when he'd sat up.

He's alive!

Despite the apparent odds against them, the two of them had survived whatever demented experiment the doctors had performed on them. Beside her, Fallow was removing the various tubes and wires that linked Liz to the machine.

"Why are you doing this?" Liz tried and failed to keep the loathing from her voice.

Fallow sighed, her eyes flickering away. "You'll find out soon enough, Elizabeth."

Liz stared at the grief shining from Fallow's eyes. Despite herself, she found herself pitying the woman, though she could not say why. Even so, the doctor's words triggered a sense of foreboding, and Liz pressed on, desperate to exploit the woman's weakness.

"You don't have to do this," she whispered. "Halt's gone. You could let us go, unlock our collars."

A faint smile twitched on Fallow's lips. "A tempting proposition." She shook her head. "They'd kill you both before you reached the front door. And then they'd come for me." Their eyes locked, but after a moment Fallow only smiled and continued with false humor. "Besides, you are the culmination of my life's work."

"What about our lives?" Chris's snarl came from behind Liz. "What right—?"

He broke off as Fallow raised a hand, her smile fading. "You know the law, Christopher. Your mother was found guilty of treason. In due time, she will answer for those crimes. As her son, you would have faced the same fate."

To Liz, Fallow's words sounded hollow, as though they left a bad taste in her mouth. Even so, after that the woman ignored their pleas. Moving to Chris, she removed the cuffs and wires. Within a few minutes she had them on their feet, dressed in fresh orange jumpsuits, and staggering around the room like senior citizens.

Liz's legs trembled with each step, refusing to obey the simplest of instructions. A dull ache was quickly spreading up her hamstrings, and several times she had to grab at neighboring beds to steady herself. Chris was no better; he managed to knock over a series of machines within two steps of leaving his bed, after which he promptly crashed to the linoleum floor.

From the corner of her eyes, Liz caught movement from several of the beds, but the doctor was too preoccupied with Chris to notice. Steadying herself, she took a moment to search the room for Ashley and Sam. But the fluorescent light caught in her eyes, and she found her vision shimmering, the room becoming a blur. By the time it cleared, Fallow was already shepherding them towards the doorway.

Outside, Liz's legs finally started to obey, though they remained stiff and sore. Chris was steadily improving too, but he still needed Liz's shoulder for support. Two guards stood on either side of exit, but neither made any move to follow them. Fallow kept pace several feet behind them though, no doubt ready to use the collars should they place a foot out of line.

Step by faltering step, they made their way through the facility, obeying Fallow's direction whenever they came to an intersection. Within a few turns, Chris had recovered enough to walk unaided, though it was a while before he managed more than a slow shuffling. Fortunately, the doctor did not seem to be in any hurry.

Despite their slow pace, the journey could not last forever, and all too soon they found themselves outside a familiar white door. Liz shivered as she looked on it, memories of her fight with Joshua spiraling through her mind.

She turned as Fallow spoke from behind them. "Go in."

Wordlessly, Liz shook her head. Dread wrapped around her stomach as she reached out and took Chris's hand. Together they faced the doctor, standing straight now, the strength slowly returning to their limbs.

"We won't." Liz drew herself up and stepped towards Fallow. "I won't."

Fallow retreated. She lifted her arm, the watch on her wrist flashing in warning. "Won't what?" Fallow asked.

"I won't fight her," Chris coughed. "I'd rather die."

Fallow's shoulders slumped and she gave a little shake of her head. "That's not…no." She gestured with a hand. "Just go."

Liz and Chris shared a glance, still hesitating. Despite Fallow's strange reassurance, fear gnawed at Liz's stomach, a dread she could not shake. The last time she'd entered this room, an innocent boy had lost his life. She had almost lost her own. Her hand drifted to her throat, but there was no pain now, only the cold reminder of the collar nestled beneath her chin.

How long were we asleep?

"Don't make me use the collars." Fallow lifted her finger to her watch.

They went.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Liz found herself standing again in the padded room, blinking in the brilliant light. An awful smell wafted through the air, a sickly sweetness that clung to her nostrils. As her vision cleared and the room came into focus, she realized with a sharp inhalation that they were not alone.

A boy stood in the center of the room. He wore an orange jumpsuit that matched their own, though she had never seen him before in the cells. His head was bowed, and his breath came in ragged gasps, his shoulders trembling with each violent exhalation. He held his hands clenched at his side, and though his eyes were open, he did not seem to have noticed them. Black hair dangled in front of his face, obscuring the rest of his features.

Liz edged towards him, her heart beating hard in her chest. Behind her, Chris gasped, and she felt his hand on her shoulder. But she twisted free, her panic growing. Gripped by a desperate need to see, to know for sure, she slid closer.

Leaning down, she peered into the boy's eyes.

Hard grey irises stared back, their surfaces glazed, unseeing.

But as she watched, they blinked, the life behind them stirring.

Liz screamed.