I raise my brows at Deacon with false bravado as if to say, ‘so what?’ His eyes narrow at mine and the scowl gets more prominent.
“So…. You’re a runaway from our own pack? Juan said he’s been looking for you, traitor. How coincidental you end up here…. clearly looking for something you shouldn’t be! You’re going down to isolation until he gets here, and then you can be someone else’s problem. Hopefully his, and I’m sure he’ll find the perfect punishment for a flawed failure who betrayed her own kind.” I don’ doubt Juan has conducted a whole new story about why I’m public enemy number one and arguing it is going to be futile. Deacon is a believer, a loyal to Juan’s sub pack, and it’s boringly obvious. He was put here, probably because he is one of the Juan brainwashed who do exactly as they are told, and questions nothing.
Deacon grabs me by the upper arm ruthlessly, and hauls me off the bed forcefully, my body still a dead weight and I almost fall on the floor with the sudden demand to use my limbs properly. Grabbing out to catch myself and instantly overwhelmed with dizziness at being bolted upright.
“Careful, careful…. She’s a very special specimen and still a young lady. Kindness does not cost extra, Mr. Deacon. Compassion. A little human dignity. If we have her for two days yet, then I need to harvest samples for my studies and could use the time to learn more about her very unique blood! I can’t let this opportunity go to waste, and I certainly can’t stand and watch you damage her.” The doctor is torn between real human concern for a person, and that of a scientist with his eye on a? prized lab rat. I can’t even be mad about it, but it does open a window of opportunity.
“Doc, she’s our prisoner, not a study volunteer. She’s a betrayer of my blood and I’ll handle her as such. The only place this chick is going, is down beside that mindless corpse they keep in bay two, and out of bounds for you and your quack colleagues in the lab. If we’re lucky, she’ll stay as quiet as her new roommate and be gone before she messes up anymore of my week.” Deacon is an asshole for sure. He pulls me with him, not waiting for my legs to catch up and despite my inner desire to not touch this idiot, I have to grab onto him or be dragged along behind him.
“Sierra is not mindless. She’s sedated and detained by you thugs and your lack of vision… she’s a work of art, a person with feelings, and thoughts, and if Juan would only allow me to waken her and….”
“Enough!!! Shut your mouth!! That’s a dead name…. just like you will be if you talk about her again.” Deacon barks at him hatefully, the tone scathing, and pins him with a forceful glare.
The Doctor recoils, scolded, and red faced but I can feel his simmering anger with the mention of Sierra. The spark in him of real rage before he was shut down, and paces off to bubble under the surface, grabbing a nearby rag, and twisting it between his hands as we pass him. I can tell he’s trying so hard to hold his tongue.
I’m speechless though, my mind racing at the confirmation she’s here and my mouth runs dry. I don’t fight Deacon as he bodily hauls me out the door at speed, no consideration that his grip is leaving marks on my skin, or that I’m tripping over every step as I try to regain control of my walking ability. His fingers biting into my arm as my legs, like jelly under me, try to keep up with his long fast stride. I end up clinging to the side of him like a needy child, aware my gown is sliding off, and I catch sight of the doctor one last time as he follows us out into the corridor and I strain back to see.
He looks sad, defeated, and as he watches me get dragged away, I lock my eyes on him one last time as I clutch together a plan of sorts in my head that might give me a tiny hope of getting out of this. I throw him a desperate backwards second glance, an attempt to communicate.
“I volunteer…. take your tests. I want to know why I’m white, and I’m not going to be doing anything else for two days.” I lie impulsively, loud enough for my voice to echo this hall. The doctor is a soft touch and he knows something about Sierra too. Maybe I can convince him to let me go, or to see her to figure out why she brought me here. It’s clutching at straws and my brain is scurrying to try and figure how this will help, but it’s all I have in the moment. Deacon falters, stopping us mid step with an exaggerated exhale of annoyance. He turns us to the doctor fully.
The doctor’s face lights up with a glow that tells me he might be my key to getting out of here, before Juan shows up in two days, or at the least he may be a valuable ally if I can keep him latched onto my unique so called ‘hybrid blood’. Might be able to manipulate him into revealing more or getting lax with keeping me locked up. Deacon, I can tell is a lost cause, but the doctor, he just might be the weak link.
I don’t believe anything he said about being a hybrid though. I think he’s a crackpot scientist who has sampled too many of his own test tubes from being in underground isolation, but if it gets me an angle to lever a possible way out, then I’m going to play on it. I’ll play along and nod my head and let him stick me with as many needles and swabs as it takes to win him around.
“See, see, she has no objections and it’s only some blood and smears and such. I will barely touch her, and it won’t interfere with her time here at all. Juan will never know.” The doctor’s enthusiasm and surge of newfound joy is energizing and solidifies my plan. Deacon scowls at him for the longest, tensest moment, as I hold my breath and pray.
“She stays in bay one, you don’t take her anywhere else, and you are to be done before Juan gets anywhere near here. Not a word to him about it, at all!” Deacon lays down the law, relenting, probably for a quiet life, and it’s not like he’ll have to do anything.
The doctor nods enthusiastically, like an excitable puppy, and I remain calm and neutral, shielding the sea of nerves rippling up inside of me. My heart is pounding, my insides trembling, but on the outside, I’m cool and calm. I have a chance of breaking out and it’s keeping my wits about me.
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