CHAPTER TWENTY - MARLOWE'S REVENGE
Sammy gulped nervously when the guards came for them. As usual it was early and Sammy’s eyes were still trying to remain closed as he was unused to such early awakenings. The moment he had fully awakened though, the coldness had set in as he’d seen Paul staring at him, willing him not to blow their chances.
Sammy didn’t have a choice in the matter. He’d thought it over and he knew that it was their best hope and it might be the only way Sammy could get B out of this place. That was his main concern. He had no idea what was happening to him and the Gerai’s refusal to let them see each other was disturbing. It was as if they knew something about B that he didn’t.
His heart jiggled slightly and he found himself thinking of Brian and the last time he had saw him. He had looked so close to death in that medical centre. He gulped and pushed tears away. No matter what, he would take care of B. He had made the promise after Brian had ‘died’ to take care of his little brother to pay Brian back for the way he had taken care of Sammy. He did not intend to break that.
The other prisoners were led single file into the main circular room and the guards gave them the usual orders to clean the machinery and give constant maintenance which was forever needed with such outdated systems.
The guards held Sammy back for a moment and he took a moment to calm himself. He glanced about the room and noticed, like Paul had said, that it would be an ideal location to take control of. To the left was a storeroom and there was more than enough computer consoles. Sammy was certain that he could hack them and find out everything they needed to escape. More importantly, he would find out everything about what was happening to his brother.
“Good morning Sammy,” a silky voice whispered.
He found himself shivering as he felt her breath against his neck and he turned to see that Heather had joined the guards. She smiled at the others sweetly. “I’ll take it from here.”
They nodded and Sammy caught more than one of them allowing their eyes to trail down her lithe body. He smiled back at her. He had to be friendly so that in a few days he and the others could initiate their big plan. His heart had begun to beat harder and as he stared at her and his throat seemed to have constricted. He needed to talk to her and be nice to her but suddenly nervousness had stolen all the words from his throat.
“Uh…” he began uncertainly.
“Let’s get you to work,” she said coolly as she began to lead him to his workstation. “We need you to work hard today.”
Sammy cleared his throat. “I always work hard. I work hard in everything,” he said huskily.
She turned to face him, but her expression was unreadable. Sammy offered a small smile as he took his seat and flexed his fingers over the keyboard, but his pulse had rapidly increased. He had never mastered the art of flirtation and he had wondered if she had even noticed his remark. This might be a little harder than Paul had envisioned. What if they had it all wrong? Sammy doubted if Heather would allow him to live if he tried anything and it turned out she was not interested.
“I’m sure you do,” heather said casually. “I like men under me to work hard.”
Sammy couldn’t stop himself from turning sharply towards her at the reply. He raised an eyebrow slightly. “I’m sure they enjoy it,” he said, keeping his own voice cool. She could take these comments any way she wanted them…
He kept a professional air about him as he began to tap at the keys of the computer, ignoring the groaning ache in his eyes as they realised that they would be staring at the screen all day again. He pulled up the codes he had cracked already and began to examine his own handiwork to check his own progress. He had to work slow to heed his own progress.
Heather’s hand had suddenly found its way onto his shoulder. His eyes flickered to it before he fixed them onto the computer screen again.
“Our commander is concerned by the slowness of your work. He says you should be able to work more quickly.” She paused and he watched her reflection on the screen and saw her staring at him. “I thought you were a fast boy.”
“I am. Especially when I’m working hard,” he replied swiftly, his expression never faltering. “Some things can’t be rushed though,” he added, choosing his words carefully.
Her lips curved for a brief moment and then the smile was gone, but it had been here. Se had noticed what he was doing and that his words weren’t nearly as innocent as they seemed. His heart leapt slightly and his face had begun to flush with heat.
“Even so, I want you to try and make some more progress over the next two days,” she said lightly.
“I intend to,” Sammy replied honestly.
He watched Heather’s eyes flicker over him and then began to slowly type away on the keyboard. He noticed her raise an eyebrow slightly before she backed away against the wall where she always stood to watch over him. He breathed a sigh of relief and realised he was trembling slightly. He had half expected her to slap him at any moment, but she seemed quietly impressed. That was a good sign.
He swallowed and dampened his dry mouth and realised that he was smiling slightly. This wasn’t as hard as he’d first thought and it could be what brought him back to B. He still could not shift the cold jump of his stomach every time he thought about Paul’s plan, but he knew that the man was desperate and there was no other way of getting a card key unless someone attacked a guard. That could be dangerous and the Gerai would be suspicious.
Sammy just had to be careful not to overdo anything. He did not want heather to suspect his plan. If she was interested then he just had to lead her on a little and hope she would be the one pushing him. It wouldn’t look right if he was the one doing all the work and she wasn’t stupid.
He found himself sneaking another look at her reflection on the screen and something inside of him seemed to quiver. She was attractive, he couldn’t deny that and maybe he would be interested under other circumstances. She even seemed to be a little understanding about B…
‘Uh oh… don’t go there!’
He couldn’t allow himself to get involved and he couldn’t allow himself to feel sorry for Heather either. He had a job to do now and B’s life could depend upon t. There was no turning back. He may not have liked what he was going to do, but it was their only hope of escape.
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“B, B, don’t cry,” Marlowe soothed.
B was crying. He was frightened. “W-where am I?” he asked as he cried into the arms of the scientist.
He had awoken in this cold place and he had recognised it, but he did not know where it was or why he was here. The man, Marlowe, had come to comfort him and B leaned on his shoulder gratefully.
“It’s okay,” Marlowe said softly. “You’re ill. We brought you here to look after you.”
“Is my dad here?” B asked hopefully. There was someone in his mind. Blue eyes and light hair that was slightly curly. They had a nice smile, but B wanted to cry whenever he thought of that image. ‘Father. Dad. Daddy.’ Where was he now? Why wasn’t he here when B was all alone and scared? “And my brother?”
“You remember them?” Marlowe asked, his face creasing slightly.
B suddenly found himself cringing at the look that appeared on Marlowe’s face. Was he displeased? He didn’t want him to go. He did not want to be all alone while he was so confused.
He slowly nodded, wary in case he provoked the man before him. There was something about him that made him shudder and his stomach seemed to twist and grimace every time the man touched him. The face was familiar, but nothing made sense. Marlowe had a kind voice and he was nice. He held B in his arms and let him cry. His words were kind and soothing, but every time he spoke something like instinct made B want to curl up and hide.
“B,” Marlowe chided. “You don’t want to think of your brother. They weren’t very nice to you. They abandoned you.” Marlowe stared at him sympathetically with blue eyes. B tilted his head. He looked like his father. They were so similar… was he getting muddled in the head?
“My brother?” he said faintly, disbelievingly. “Sammy?” When he said the name he could hear a warm voice that had sung him to sleep as a child and eyes that always smiled at him even when he was sad or angry. Every time he thought of him there was a hole that gaped open within him. He missed him. He was frightened because he could not remember what had happened to him.
“Sammy hated you,” Marlowe whispered.
B shook his head. “No…” he frowned in puzzlement. He could see Sammy picking him up and cuddling him. He could remember Sammy always looking out for him… He loved him. He could feel it inside of him and by the fear that crept over him because he had lost him. He couldn’t have loved someone who had been bad to him. “You’re wrong.”
“No, I’m not,” Marlowe said in his soft voice. “Sammy and Brian are the ones who were hurting you. They’re the reason you’re here and you’re feeling so confused. They hurt you. They manipulated you.”
Brian. B smiled as he thought of his father. That’s who Brian was. He liked to have the memories of them even though he didn’t know what had happened to them. There was nothing else in his head apart from a shattered jumble of images and faces that he didn’t know anymore. People with dark hair and dark eyes and people with blonde hair but none of them had any names, even something inside of him told him that they were important. He just couldn’t remember why.
“They love me,” he said.
“Then why aren’t they here?” Marlowe pressed.
B frowned, trying to think and remember. He had awoken in this place this morning and immediately he had been gripped by a fierce, cold fear as he failed to recognise it properly. It was very familiar and he knew he had been here before, but he didn’t know why or what it was or how he had come here. It was the same with Marlowe. The face was familiar, but perhaps it was because he looked similar to Brian? B didn’t know. The scientist scared him and confused him and he could not understand his words now.
“I lost them,” he said eventually. “I must have gotten lost. Do you know where they are?” he stared at Marlowe hopefully.
Marlowe shook his head. “B, they won’t come for you. They don’t care about you. You’ve been ill and this has caused you to lose your memories. You’re getting them mixed up with other people. They’re the ones who made you suffer?”
“S-suffer?” He found one of his hands instinctively beginning to stroke his arm and he turned his eyes and gasped as he saw the huge red mark that streaked down his left arm. He prodded it slightly and then his face furrowed. His eyes closed and suddenly he could hear screams in his head that seemed to be his own. He could feel something hot and painful searing through his body…
“Do you remember any pain? Brian and Sammy caused this,” Marlowe hissed.
B cried out slightly as he screwed his eyes shut. He could feel someone slashing his arm with a knife and everything burned and stung. He covered his face with his hands as more images were suddenly worming their way into his head. Needles were being plunged into his hands and everything swam in a sickening wave of pain and nausea. His eyes snapped open and he gasped as he stared at Marlowe.
“They did that to you,” Marlowe whispered.
“Sammy? Daddy?” B said softly. He closed his eyes again and he could see them mingled in with the pain, but they didn’t cause it. They stopped it.
Dark, cold, wet. He could hardly see anything in the weak, dying streetlight except for the fat, filthy droplets of rain that dribbled down from the black heavens. The pavement beneath his battered, soaking shoes was dotted with chunks of old gum and used cigarettes as he stumbled clumsily down the street.
He was scared, frightened. The wind was so bitter as it hit him and the rain was soaking into his clothes.
…
Then suddenly Brian was there scooping him up into his arms. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “You’re safe with me now.”
He shook his head against Marlowe’s slurs and thought hard. He had been losing memories? Was that why everything was twisted and muddled in his head? He felt as if he had only been alive for a few hours, even though the images in his head told him otherwise.
There was another image and this time he was holding onto Brian dearly, afraid that if he let him go then he might disappear… and Brian was holding him back.
It was the same images with Sammy, only there was more. He could see himself as a child and Sammy was trying to teach him to write with a wobbly crayon.
“They’re good. They care about me.” He glanced up at Marlowe and saw the glint in his eyes. He gasped slightly and then pulled sharply away from him as he backed away towards the edge of the bed. Something was terribly wrong with this man. B knew he’d had memories of him, but now they seemed to be lost. He was terrified of what those memories were of though. He closed his eyes and grunted as he concentrated.
He was with Sammy. Sammy was holding him and B was crying tearfully onto his shoulder.
And then there was the voice, the sweet, sugary voice that seemed so kind and yet so terrifying as well. “Now break it up.”
Sammy was being pulled from his arms and B was screaming…
B screamed and flung his arms out, striking Marlowe across the face. “I remember!” he cried. “You separated us! You took my brother away from me! Where is he!” He was screaming and trembling with fear and rage. Sweat dribbled down his face with the exertion of trying to recall what had happened, but it was suddenly coming back. That one memory had suddenly jerked his lazy mind into awakening and suddenly he could remember more. He could remember Marlowe.
“Oh God…” he whispered in disgust as he backed further away from the scientist, appalled that a few minutes ago he had been weeping in his cruel arms. “You’re the one who’s hurting me. You took Sammy away. You… where are they? Where’s my dad and where’s my brother? I remember you, Marlowe!”
He stared about the lab and gasped. There was a tray of needled. He remembered those needles. They often pierced his skin and hurt him. He stared at the door and his head throbbed as he tried to remember the first time he had been brought here. How had he come here?
So many things were still missing… but some things were clear.
“My father and brother would never abandon me!” he screamed as he picked up a bottle and flung it at Marlowe watching as the man covered his head to protect himself from the shattered pieces of glass. “You’re the monster here!”
Marlowe was manipulating him. He was trembling and almost choking on his own deep, fearful breaths. He was losing his memories and every day he was drifting closer to Marlowe. He had almost succumbed moments ago. What would happen when he did not have as many memories to rely on?
Marlwoe stood up and his face had darkened with rage. He reached out and locked his hand in B’s light hair, making him squeal as sharp and burning pain engulfed his scalp. “Listen boy, I grow impatient of your obsession with your family! You should have forgotten them by now and I swear that by the end of this week you will be mine.”
B’s fingers were still shaking and his heart burned with anger. Marlowe was trying to turn him against Brian and Sammy. He was trying to take him away. He gave a scream of rage and then threw his elbow back into Marlowe’s stomach. The older man grunted and B broke free and pushed him away. He jumped slightly as Marlowe hit a cabinet behind him, having not realised quite how hard he’d pushed him but he remained defiant.
“What do you want from me?” He screamed. “What do you want from me! You’ve been doing this to me for God knows how long now and yet the one thing you’re most concerned about is me forgetting my family! Why?” he demanded.
Marlowe staggered to his feet, his face betraying that he had hurt himself. He slipped his hand into his pocket and began to stumble towards B.
“Imagine the look on your father’s face when he sees that you don’t recognise him anymore. Imagine the look on his face when he see that you are convinced that I am your father.”
B almost threw up. His stomach lurched and everything tried to rise into his throat at once. He gasped and choked, his chest heaving sickeningly. “No way in hell!” he screamed. He may have been losing everything, but He would remember Brian and Sammy. He wouldn’t forget them. And he would never mistake Marlowe for his father. “You’re sick,” he whispered as he backed himself against the wall.
“Time’s running out, B. You can’t keep your memories so why not just let them go?” Marlowe said. He limped up beside B and B watched him warily. He sw the needle in the hand too late. He tried to leap out of the way but Marlowe was grabbing his arm and forcing the point into the back of his hand.
He screamed and gasped, clinging frantically onto consciousness. He was losing everything… he had only just managed to dredge up the memories in time to prevent Marlowe from manipulating him. He didn’t want to sleep, he wanted to remember…
He gasped and then gave a sob as darkness closed in.