CHAPTER SIX - BRUTAL PERSUASION
B’s eyes were heavy as they finally opened. He had that strange, heavy headed feeling that accompanied one’s awakening from a particularly deep slumber. He blinked a few times as he saw the unfamiliar room swaying about him unsteadily as if he were on a boat almost that was bobbing along the waves of the ocean.
Slowly he allowed his eyes to swivel about the place but when he tried to tilt his face for a better look, he found that the movement seemed to send the room spinning and his stomach writhed threateningly inside of him. He was hot. His skin was burning and he could feel dribbles of sweat sliding down his arms. However even though the fearsome heat washed over him a part of him still felt cold with dread. He was shivering.
He was lying on a table and his hands and legs had been tied down. He groaned slightly as he feebly tugged at one of his hands. He remembered having a strange, vague dream where he had been tied down… perhaps it hadn’t been a dream after all.
His eyes hurt and the room was still fuzzy, but he could make out things close to him. Dimly he could see that there was a table beside him which had been covered in sharp looking metal instruments. He cringed slightly and turned his head away from the site, despite causing his head to spin again. He remembered similar tools from the Gerai base he had been trapped in as a child. They had held him down while various metal implements had been stabbed into him.
“How do you feel?” a slippery voice asked.
He turned his head towards the source of the voice and frowned as he saw the Gerai scientist staring down at him. He remembered him vaguely from his ‘dream’. Obviously it had been more than that. “You,” he whispered.
He closed his eyes as if he could somehow use magical powers to transport him away from this place and back to his home in the base. Suddenly being locked up inside Darren’s base did not seem so bad. At least he would not be trapped here.
“How are you feeling, B?” the scientist asked.
‘Like I’m dying,’ B thought miserably. His head hammered so hard it felt as if it might fall off. His mouth was dry and there was something painful jabbing his throat every time he tried to swallow. Everything was spinning and his old life was faded as if it were years away. He could hardly even recall the faces of his friends anymore…
“Uh…” he moaned slightly as he felt the heat trapping him and burning his blood. The heated had increased until he felt as if he were trying to breathe in a furnace.
A cold hand was pressed against his forehead and B could not find the energy to wriggle away from the scientist as the fingers cooled his flushed skin. “Don’t worry. It will pass soon.”
‘The virus…’ B remembered weakly what the scientist had told him. Somehow B had managed to catch it and now… now he was an experiment for this man. He was a guinea pig for the Gerai’s new super virus.
“Tell me exactly what you’re feeling,” the scientist said in a sugary voice. “Everything.” A clipboard had suddenly appeared in his hands from seemingly nowhere.
B turned his face away from him and closed his eyes to seal away the strange disorientations of the burred world. It was so much more peaceful in the darkness. He could pretend that this wasn’t happening to him again… He didn’t want it to happen. He still had nightmares about the experiments last time and now it was happening again. His eyes were heavy and he felt a cold tear trickling down his face. He would not tell this man anything. He refused to cooperate with him.
The scientist sighed slightly. “I feel I am being impolite.” There was a faint thud as he placed his clipboard down on the table with the silver instruments upon it. “I should introduce myself. My name is Doctor Stuart Marlowe.”
“That’s nice,” B said with as much sarcasm as he could manage while feeling as if he were teetering upon the cliff top that separated life from oblivious death. B did not even dignify the man by looking at him. He did not care what the name of his perpetrator was.
Marlowe crossed around the table so that he was facing B. He wasn’t a tall man. He looked similar to Brian actually. Their hair was the same sandy colour, but Marlowe’s eyes were brown instead of sky blue. There was a pang in B’s chest. He longed for his father to find him and save him. How would he be feeling now? What would his father from his own time be doing? What would Brian in 2003 be doing? B had really messed things up now…
And then there was Sammy. B still had no clue where he was. He sniffed slightly and muffled a cry as the sniffle made the pain in his throat throb even more intensely.
Marlowe tilted his face and leaned in closer to him until B could feel the man’s breath upon his neck. He turned away again, disliking being stared at as if he were a hamster in a cage.
“Would you like me to tell you why you are here?” Marlowe asked softly.
B felt his heart beginning to beat harder in fear. His eyes travelled to his arm where he could just see the very end of the red scar. “I know why I’m here. You bastards want the computer chip. Why don’t you just take it and put me out of my misery?” Maybe finally he would be at peace. Maybe death was better than this. B did not even know if he could live through this again… He gulped slightly. His moth ached with a sticky dryness and his throat felt like someone had run a grater over it.
Marlowe moved around the table again to the left. Gently he reached out a hand and began to trace the scar on B’s arm, sending sickeningly cold shudders streaking straight to B’s chest. He began to shiver, his skin crawling as Marlowe’s fingers touched it.
“Yes,” he whispered. “We did want this. But we have the virus now. You’re friends were very kind in extracting the information for us.”
B closed his eyes. “Lance and Jonathan,” he spat. His head still spun from the horrific realisation that his friend was his enemy. Lance had always seemed so innocent, so funny and friendly. Instead he had been a monster. How could that be right? Lance had always been so similar to himself.
“They were rather good at what they did weren’t they?” He shook his head. “You’re friends let down their defences too much. They began to trust too many people. Yes, Lance hacked into your computer and sent us all the information we needed. We were able to create a strain of the virus and complete the formula. When Jonathan arrived at your base, he carried a sample of the virus in a hypodermic needle. He infected you with it.”
“Fucking bastard,” B said miserably. He had felt ill for weeks now. He had begun to forget what it felt like to be normal. He had never told anyone, but he had always been afraid of deadly illnesses. An illness was a silent killer that you could not fight. It would slowly eat away at your mind and body until there was nothing left and you could not fight it. You could only wait to die.
“Language, language my boy,” Marlowe chided as he placed a hand upon B’s face. “And don’t look so glum. You’re not going to die.”
He certainly felt like it. He could feel his mind dissolving and his body slowly dying. He felt constantly sick and dizzy and his skin was burning so that it felt as if he were in a furnace. “The virus is deadly.” It hurt to speak and his voice sounded cracked and dry as if it were falling to pieces. It betrayed how he felt inside.
“But I haven’t told you why else we want you.” Marlwoe moved even closer to B so that he could see the man’s face without it being half blurred. “I have been stuck in this base for years working on scientific research. We were hardly involved in the war. My incompetent superiors only wanted one thing: the virus formula inside your arm. They didn’t listen to my caution and instead went out to kill you, but that was a mistake. Now they are dead, I can rectify their blunder.”
Despite at first intending to remain silent instead of being a part of Marlowe’s sick experiment, B was curious. He was curious as to why he was still alive when before the Gerai had tried to fire fatal shots at him the moment they saw him.
“Why was it a mistake?” he asked.
He saw Malowe smile and he knew with furious certainty that the man was pleased that B was beginning to take an interest instead of lying there and saying nothing but sarcastic comments.
“B, do you remember the Gerai base you were in as a child? The one where you got this?” He trailed another long finger down the scar. Another tremble rippled through B’s body. His stomach quivered slightly and begun to push something hard up his throat.
B swallowed and turned his face away. “No.”
“Are you sure?” Marlowe whispered. “An experience like that must last a life time.”
B was beginning to tremble. He could hear screaming in his head. He was curled up in a corner crying his eyes out as burning pain struck him. He felt as if he were being torn apart. He could feel needles being plunged into his arms that stung the blood as they travelled throughout his veins. They were holding and tying him down so that he could not escape their cruel clutches…
“I don’t remember!” he said fiercely.
Marlowe continued to run a finger down the scar on his arm. “I was one of the head doctors. I didn’t see you much apart from on some of my rounds. You were a cute kid. I planned to keep you when all this was over. I always wanted a son and you were very cute.”
B jerked his arm away in disgust. He had a family. He had a family that he loved. He would never have allowed himself to call a Gerai ‘father’, no matter how young he was. He had been perfectly happy with Sammy. He would never have traded him to have a stranger as a father.
Marlowe smirked slightly. “I oversaw the experiments done on you. I designed them. We used to infect you with diseases and then try cures out on you. A lot of them are still present within your blood. You have a very unique blood make up now.”
B closed his eyes. He knew that. Darren and the others had extracted a small portion of his blood and used some of the cures there to cure certain diseases that had sprang up during the war.
“You were a lucky charm almost. Most of the other kids died, but you went on surviving. You’re blood was so full of antibodies by the time we had finished with you that you could fight off almost anything… even the Nerualgue virus.”
“The what?”
“That’s the virus we created. You have a cure for it in your bloodstream. I told my superiors this. I told them that it is always dangerous to work with a virus unless you have a cure, but they were too concerned with their own frivolous battles to listen. They wanted that chip and that meant they wanted you dead.”
“I hate to tell you this, but you’re ‘cure’ doesn’t appear to be working,” B replied sarcastically. Cures did not usually make you feel so sick that you wished you’d never been born with a stomach and he doubted if they gave you a fever that burned your very soul.
“On the contrary, you have already lived much longer than my other subjects and the virus has not even entered the final stages yet. I think you will survive. You will live through this, just like most ordinary people live through the flu.”
This was very different to the flu though. B remembered having the flu once. Sammy had wrapped him up in a blanket and confined him to bed but he had sat by him every day and night to keep him company. There was no Sammy here to comfort him anymore.
“I would rather die then be your lab rat again,” B whispered. He did not want to cry himself to sleep every night through fear. He did not want to live to know that every day would be worse then the last.
“Sorry chuckie, but that’s not going to happen. I am not going to let you die. If you die, I’ll lose the antibodies that give you the ability to survive the virus.”
B could feel his head drowning in heat. It felt like he was surrounding by water. Everything was disproportioned and his limbs felt heavy. He was like a puppet now with no control of his own.
He had never had control over his own life. He had always been forced to hide and to live life undercover. He had never been able to make his own decisions or be free without someone constantly watching out for the Gerai. Tears were rolling down his face. He did not want this to be done to him again.
“Don’t do this to me,” he begged, his voice little above a whisper.
“Aaww, I’m sorry,” Marlowe’s voice was dripping with false sugar. “Don’t cry.” A hand was gently yet forcefully wiping away the tears.
“Will you let me go afterwards?” he pleaded miserably. “You’ve always been chasing me. You’ve never let me lead an ordinary life!”
“No, I need you here,” Marlowe said softly. “Even after you’re better, I’ll still have experiments to run. I need to turn the antibodies into a vaccine to stop people from undergoing the miserable symptoms and I have to work on the virus itself to make it even more deadly and contagious. It’s not much use when it doesn’t spread. I can change that. You can help me in my experiments.”
“I don’t want to help you!” B snapped, jerking the ropes that held his hands. “I don’t want to be here!” He wanted to see his father again. The tears began to fall. He might never see him again and he still thought that he hated him. Then there was Sammy. What had happened to him?
“Don’t get yourself into a state!” Marlowe said as his hands began to soothingly stroke B’s arms. “You might make yourself even worse. You have to stay strong.”
Make himself even worse? Was that possible? It was becoming hard to think. His mind had seemed to melt in the extreme heat of his body…
“I hope I die,” B whispered. “I hope I die and your lousy experiment is a failure. And I hope you catch this thing yourself and die suffering.” His voice was bubbling with frustrated tears.
“Now now, there’s no need for violent threats,” Marlowe said with a calmness that made B want to scream and lash out to try and kill him. “We’re going to be good friends. You can be the son I never had.”
B shook his head, ignoring the way the jolting only made his head seem heavier. “I hate you,” he whispered.
“I’m sure that will soon change.”
B rested his head against the examination table. He would never accept that he was a guinea pig again. He had not accepted it when he was five years old and it was no different now.
Marlowe sighed again and turned away to grab a bowl from the side. “Are you hungry?” he asked B.
B did not reply. He could smell something that suggested there was hot soup in the bowl but his stomach was writhing, threatening to eject anything that entered it.
“You need to eat,” Marlowe insisted.
He placed the bowl down and then reached out and began to fiddle with the ropes that restrained B’s arms.
“What are you doing?” B whispered.
“Loosening your ropes a little. There.”
B weakly moved his arms and found that he could now sit up. Gratefully he eased his weary body into a more comfortable position and rubbed the red marks on his wrists where the ropes were cutting into his skin. His head throbbed even more as he sat up, but it felt better then being restrained. He placed his hands to his head, feeling the sticky sweat he found there.
Marlowe held the soup out for him. “Eat,” he ordered.
B slowly wiped the sweat from his brow and then shook his head. “No.” He wasn’t hungry and he was not willing to take anything that this man offered him. B would not let him win him over. Because of the Gerai he had lost his mother and because of the Gerai he had grown up without any parents.
“Eat,” Marlowe repeated. “You haven’t had anything since you arrived.”
B stared at the soup. He felt sick just looking at it.
“Eat,” Marlowe repeated, the words sounding like an order.
B stubbornly lie back down and turned his back away from him.
“B, you have to learn to do as I say. Do as I say and things will be easier on you.”
‘In what way?’ B thought miserably. He refused to move.
“B?” Marlowe asked. “B, answer me.”
B wasn’t five years old anymore. They could not control him as easily as they once had done. Now he was bigger and he could fight back. Well, he could if Marlowe’s little antidote would work so that he could get better. He would show this scientist that B was never cooperative…
There was a sigh and B dimly heard him fiddling with something. He slowly closed his eyes and allowed the darkness to soak his mind comfortably. Strange colours played through the darkness, flickering like ghostly shapes.
Suddenly something sharp stabbed into the back of his hand and he felt something stinging into his blood that shot around his entire body. His eyes snapped open as his vision was filled with hot, white pain and he was screaming. He curled himself up into a ball before his entire body seemed to seize up and paralyse. He gasped and whimpered, his head spinning so hard and fast he wanted to be sick.
He opened his eyes, but a veil of fuzz had fallen over everything so that he could only see various blobs of colour for a few moments until the nearest objects began to fall into focus.
Tears stung his eyes as he stared with frightened eyes at Marlowe. He clutched his hand to his chest, blood still oozing from where Marlowe had plunged a hypodermic needle into his hand.
“I said to eat,” Marlowe said as he held out the bowl of soup once more.
B’s hands were trembling as the stinging refused to subside. He stared up at Marlowe, seeing nothing but calmness upon the man’s face. He looked so much like Brian…
B slowly shook his head. He wouldn’t back down… he wouldn’t let himself be used like this… he wouldn’t…
Marlowe suddenly pulled another syringe from the table and held it up for B to see. B could feel his lip trembling as he tried to make himself as small as the restraints on his arms would let him.
“B, you have to eat to keep your strength. When I say eat, you do as I say.” The voice was so calm, so reasonable, so nice… it did nothing to reveal the cold soul below.
B’s lip was trembling. He shook his head again. “I am not your lab rat,” he whispered.
Marlowe reached out and grabbed his hand. B gave out a slight cry and tried to free himself, but despite being small, Marlowe was strong and his grip was like a vice. He raised the syringe and B screamed as the needle pierced his vein.
His blood was suddenly filled with something that burnt and stung and froze him all at once. His screams died into croaks of agony and his body twitched in convulsive pain. Something flashed into his mind and he only wished that it could be reality…
“Dad…” he whispered.
“Oh no,” Marlowe hissed. “We won’t have you crying out for daddy either. You’re a grown boy now and you don’t need him.”
B had pulled his arms as tightly to his chest as he could. He could feel his fingernails digging into the skin and drawing blood, but he did not care. He did not care as long as the stinging inside of his body stopped.
“He’ll be dead soon anyway,” Marlowe whispered.
B slowly raised his head, his vision blurred with tears. “W-what?” he stammered. “No…”
“He’s been of so much trouble to us that we’ve decided to have him killed.” The voice was still so calm as if he was merely telling B about his dinner plans.
B shook his head. “No…NO!” They could not kill Brian. Everything he had ever done was for B. They could not hurt him! The rushing heat that had ruled him before had now become so hot that B thought he might faint. He placed a hand to his head and gasped in pain, his throat convulsing and clutching as sobs tried to escape.
Marlowe said nothing and merely picked up the soup again. “Eat,” he whispered.
“NO!” B screamed, ignoring the pain speaking caused his mouth and throat. He backed away to the far corner of the table.
Marlowe grabbed another needle and raised it. B screamed and instinctively clasped his arms to his chest while burying his head in his arms.
Marlowe laughed slightly. B slowly raised his arm and saw that the doctor was looking at him triumph. “Well?” he asked. He pointed to the soup.
B looked down at his hand and saw that both needle marks were beginning to rise and form huge, red welts. He was trembling and his skin had gone numb as the stinging continued to press hot pins into him. His head hurt and the room was still spinning. He closed his eyes to cry silent tears. It was all happening again…
His hands were reaching out of their own accord to take the steaming hot bowl. He looked up at Marlowe and saw that he was smiling again. “Good boy,” he whispered.
B stared at it and then flung his arm out so that he sent the bowl and its contents clattering to the floor. He glared hard at Marlowe, trying to keep the fear out of his eyes.
Marlowe did not flinch in the slightest and regarded B through his dark eyes as if he were an interesting bug of some description. He gave a disappointed sigh and wrote something down upon his clipboard. “Anger and violence,” he said as he wrote down the words. “Stage six of virus beginning.”
B shook his head. This had nothing to do with the virus. “Leave me father alone!” he croaked.
“I can’t do that B. He’s a trouble maker. He’ll come after you and cause even more problems. I’m not letting you go this time. Your father is an infamous enemy of the Gerai now. My commander has decided he must die.”
“NO!” B screamed again and this time he lashed out to send all the instruments beside him flying about the room. He tried to leap from the table, but the ropes still bound his legs down and he only succeeded in tightening the ropes that began to cut hard into his skin until he cried out.
Marlowe shook his head and sighed again before reaching out and gently helping B back onto the table. “You must stop these outbursts. Your anger is caused by the virus. It can cause irrational behaviour.”
B forcefully pushed his hands away. “You want to kill my family!” he spat. He was gasping. It was hard to breathe and his lungs suddenly did not want to take in oxygen. He moaned slightly as he clutched his throat. It was burning… His skin was melting and sweat was dripping into his eyes.
“Calm yourself my boy.” Marlowe pressed a hand on B’s arm and then suddenly he had pulled another needle from his pocket. B gave a slight cry, his heart hammering madly as instinct propelled him away from the stinging pain again. Marlowe refused to let him escape though and pressed the needle into B’s arm.
B squealed in pain as something cold hit his bloodstream and choked convulsively as if he could somehow dislodge the substance from his blood. It was different to the stinging liquid though. It left him cold and shivery. His skin was cooled and it no longer felt as if he were encased in flames. He shivered and clutched his arms to his chest. He could breathe again…
“Is that better?” Marlowe asked.
B did not reply, refusing to acknowledge that the doctor had helped him.
“Your silence seems to suggest a yes.” Marlowe reached his own conclusion.
B sniffed miserably. His hand was trembling and he could see all the punctures form the needles. He wondered if they would leave scars. Both of his arms were covered in vaccination marks from the experiments last time. He could remember curling up in a ball in his cell with only his blanket and favourite toy for company. He had been too afraid to move in case someone hurt. He had tried to make himself invisible so that they wouldn’t take him to their lab again. It had never worked.
Tears were falling from his eyes. ‘Not again,’ he begged silently.
“Would you like a blanket or anything?” Marlowe asked suddenly. “It’s cold in here.”
Pimples had risen on B’s arms but he ignored them and Marlowe’s question. He could remember cowering beneath a blanket last time.
“B, I expect you to answer me when I ask you a question,” Marlowe said, his voice still kind.
B wasn’t even listening. He was thinking of Brian. He taken him for granted recently. He had been resentful of him for everything he said and now the Gerai were going to hurt him… Brian was stronger than that though. He wouldn’t let them kill him. He’d been through too much. B wondered if he was going to come for him. The first thing he would do when he saw him was to hold him close and apologise for everything he had ever done before telling him how much he cared about him.
“B?” Marlowe said.
B had curled himself into a ball and tried to cover his arms up as much as possible to protect himself from anymore needles.
“B, you will respond to me and you will do as you are told. Did the needles not show you enough?”
“What are you going to do?” B said wretchedly. “Keep stabbing me until you kill me you pathetic bastard? You’re a fucking coward.” He turned to stare at Marlowe as he said the words. What kind of man tied someone twice his junior to a table to torture them?
The slap across the face caught him unaware. He had been expecting another needle, not a fearsome blow that hit him like a brick. He whimpered slightly as he placed a hand to his bruised cheek. Marlowe suddenly seized him by the front of his t-shirt. “I am fast losing my patience with you, B! If you don’t start to cooperate soon, then I will make you!” The eyes were gleaming in malevolence, such a contrast from the calmness before. His voice was hard and snarling like a beast and B wanted to run away and hide at the sudden change. This man was unpredictable.
“You can’t make me do anything,” B whispered trying not to let his voice tremble. “You’re not my father.”
Another blow hit his face and B tasted blood in his mouth. “You will do anything I tell you to do!” Marlowe hissed. “I’m warning you…”
B stared at him and his eyes narrowed. His father had never once backed down before a Gerai and B would do so either. He moved his face closer to Marlowe and then spat the blood into his eyes.
Marlowe released him and stumbled back. “You… fuck… shit…!” He cried as he wiped the substance from his eyes. “You’ll pay for that one brat!” Another needle was suddenly in his hands and before B could stop it, it was in his arm and the pain began again.
Something was stabbing into every part of him, even his heart and his lungs and a heavy weight appeared to have fallen onto him to prevent him from moving or form doing anything but screaming.
“You’re stronger than you look. I thought you would break much more easily than this. I can see I will have to use alternative methods.”
B gasped in pain and forced his face to look at Marlowe. “Leave my father… alone…” he hissed, the words difficult to form in a mouth that appeared to have frozen.
“You’re in no position to barter with me!” Marlowe snapped. “I’ll choose the ultimatums here!” He advanced on B and pushed him forcefully back down upon the table before tightening the ropes about his arms again so that he could not sit up. “Later, I will try to get you to eat again and this time you will.”
“I would rather starve,” B replied. Inside he was trembling with fear. Marlowe’s eyes had seemed to turn black.
Marlowe smirked. “We’ll see. I know someone who might be able to persuade you otherwise.”
B turned his head away form him again. He would never break. He would be as strong as Sammy and Brian were. This time he would not let himself be used.
“In the mean time, I should probably introduce you to Nibbles.” The coldness was gone, replaced by the false kindness that sent shudders through B’s body.
“What the hell are you drivelling about now?” B asked.
“Nibbles. You have something in common.” There was a clatter from B’s right and curiously he turned his head back to the scientist to see that there was now a metal cage upon the table. Inside was a white and brown rabbit. It was hunched up in the far corner with its eyes tightly closed. Like B it seemed to want to pretend that this wasn’t happening to it.
“We both hate you?” B guessed. He was feeling a little better now since Marlowe had injected him with the cold substance. It was easier to think of sarcastic or cutting remarks. Something inside of his mind was still foggy though. He still could not recall faces…
Marlowe seemed to ignore the comment. “No, you’re both ill.” He opened up the cage and scooped the rabbit out which gave a feeble attempt to kick the scientist. “Nibbles here is infected with the same virus you have. I thought I’d demonstrate it’s effects on an organism without the antidote in its bloodstream. I think you’ll find that the symptoms manifest themselves much more rapidly. Nibbles has been ill for nearly a week now. He doesn’t have long left.”
B eyes Nibbles warily. What was the point of this? One moment the scientist had been torturing him and now he was acting like a teacher showing a pupil and experiment. Was this one of the ways to make B behave himself better? Despite feeling sorry for the rabbit, it would take a lot more than that to convince B to cooperate.
“I’ll leave him here to keep you company for a bit,” Marlowe said as he placed Nibbles back into his cage and left it where B could see the poor rabbit cowering.
“This won’t work. A rabbit won’t make me obey you. No matter how cute it is,” he said, eyeing the rabbit sympathetically.
The smile that suddenly crept across Marlowe’s face sent something piercing straight into B’s face but he did not know why. There was something incomparably evil about it. He had an awful feeling that something terrible was about to happen.
“Oh I know, and I have something much better to use against you than a rabbit,” he snickered and laughed slightly as if he could hardly contain his sick delight. “Just you wait my dear boy.”