Embers & Ice (Rouge) (18 page)

Very
slowly, Hunter got to her feet. Will tensed beside her. Sammy made a whimpering
sound. She ignored them all. She ignored her body too, and how much it begged
her not to move. Jamison’s words were like a magnet to the fire inside her, and
it raged from the tips of her toes through every fiber of her being,
controlling her limbs and moving her onto the mat. Jamison glared at her
greedily as everyone else stepped back.

“A
clean fight,” he murmured. “No one but us will know.”

“You
won’t tell Dr. Wolfe if I beat you?”

He
laughed, the sound tickling her nerves and making her already start to sweat.
“What makes you think you’re going to beat me?”

She
wasn’t. She knew that even before she left the bench. Even at full strength,
she could never beat a man of his size and stamina. Her head throbbed just
standing up straight with nothing to lean on. After a few punches, she would be
out regardless of whether he’d hit her or not.

But
if it saved Sammy from being forced to fight, she’d take it. She’d make it
interesting, maybe even extract a little revenge of her own.

There
was no doubt, however, that she would lose. She ignored that fact.

“Just
get on with it.”

Before
Jamison made his attack, out of the corner of Hunter’s eye she saw Will. She
saw the way his hands curled into fists and remembered the bathroom. Would he
step in again and save her from Jamison? This was a different situation –
voluntary, to say the least – but he seemed to be straining to hold himself
back. She gave him just the slightest nod, telling him she was fine, that she
could fight for herself, that she wanted to.

Then
Jamison attacked.

Hunter
knew that Jamison only wanted some sort of heated connection to her again,
therefore she knew what was coming before it happened. He didn’t want to knock her
out, he wanted to make contact. He wanted what he couldn’t have all those weeks
ago, and this was the only way he could take it. His huge upper body wrapped
itself around her and the two of them went crashing to the floor. Déjà vu hit
her almost just as hard as the impact of the floor and she momentarily lost her
vision. She smelled metal again and felt bile rise in her throat. All she
wanted was to run, to get as far away from this man as possible. His weight
pressed down on her. He seemed to linger, as if his intentions were purely to
be on top of her again.

But
Hunter knew what to do this time. Her hands were free; he hadn’t thought that
far ahead. She pulled her right arm back, summoned all her energy and threw her
fist across Jamison’s nose, going for a clean break.

They
all heard the crack. Blood sprayed down on her. Jamison rolled off Hunter’s
body and moaned, clutching his nose with one hand and pushing himself up.
Despite being afraid, they all wore grins on their faces, all except Jamison.
Even Steel looked somewhat amused.

“That
all you got?” Hunter heaved, pretending she was stronger than she felt, when
really her wrist was throbbing and her vision blurred. “Or are you going to run
and cry to Dr. Wolfe about how a
girl
made you bleed?”

Jamison
chuckled, unfazed by her trash talk and his broken nose.

“Make
your move,” she growled.

“Ladies
first,” he smiled. There was blood in his teeth.

Mosi
had told Hunter never to rush into a fight. To see her opponents moves planned
ahead in his eyes was not something she’d mastered yet, but she knew more about
Jamison than he did about her. So she faked a kick to Jamison’s head and when
he reached out to grab her foot she stomped it back down, spun her waist and
threw her other foot into his jaw. He roared with frustration and took two
steps towards her, snatching her raised arm before she could punch again and
twisting it, hard. Hunter squealed in pain and ignored everyone around her,
focusing on making the fight last as long as possible. Maybe then, they would
leave the others alone.

Jamison
grabbed her other wrist and pulled her close.

“You’re
a slippery one, I’ll give you that,” he said in her ear.

Hunter
breathed hard through her teeth and tried to wriggle away. She stepped on his
foot by accident and Jamison lost his balance. The both of them went toppling
to the floor.

Hunter
lay on her stomach, the world bending and twirling. She could feel Jamison
beside her. As she rolled over on her back, he crawled over her. He seemed sick
of the fight as well, for his fist was beside his head and she saw it coming.
The fight was over, and the last thing she would see was Jamison’s hungry,
blood-stained face. She didn’t want that. She turned her head and found Will
with his hand wrapped in Fearne’s, his eyes glued to hers, but they weren’t
afraid. They were pleased.

You
did well,
they said.

Pain
came, and then nothing.

THIRTY-ONE

After
passing out, Hunter woke up in her cell under her rug, afraid to move. She knew
there would be more pain, so she wanted to avoid it as long as possible. She
turned her head to the glass door and saw that the lights were all on. It was
still day.

She
stared at the corridor for minutes, thinking about the fight. When would the
cruelty end? When would they stop being victims? Would she ever be able to walk
the halls without fearing the presence of the man who was so addicted to her,
to her body? A cold shiver passed through her. She felt dirty and wanted a
shower. She wanted ten showers.

As
she watched the lights flicker in the corridor, nothing happened. No one
passed.
Where is everyone?

Hunter
told herself to get up. She had a lot to do. She wanted to find the others, to
make sure they were all okay and that the fight had ended with her
unconsciousness.

When
Hunter finally willed herself to stand, she felt as though someone had jabbed
her with a stick in random spots all over her body, and they were all aching
like giant bruises. Her head swam. She caught her reflection in the glass and
cringed.
Why, why do I always look like a beat-up ghost?
She told
herself it was just the lighting and stumbled out of her cell.

An
empty corridor stretched before her. She glanced behind her, but no one was
around.
This is just too weird,
she thought. Hunter started towards the
stairs when a cell door opened up ahead and little Sammy hurried out. He caught
sight of Hunter and his face immediately lit up.

“Hunter!”
He sprinted towards her and, for the second time that day, he nearly bowled her
over with a hug. She would likely never get used to the contact of the small
boy, but she dared not refuse.

“So
things must have calmed down after what happened with Jamison,” she smiled down
at him. “This place is dead.”

“Not
exactly,” he murmured, his pale face devoid of color. “Everyone’s in the Orb.”

Hunter’s
heart dropped. “What? Who’s in the Orb?”

“It’s
not a fight,” he replied. His eyes swam with fear, fear of the unknown. “They
told us to go there now. Something’s happening, I don’t know what. We have to
go or the guards will get us into trouble.”

He
tugged at her hand and Hunter followed him to the stairs, instead going up.
Hunter’s stomach was slowly twisting around and every step they took was a step
closer to whatever horror lay inside. She kept thinking
please don’t let it
be Will in there again, or Fearne. Hell, don’t let it be anyone who doesn’t
deserve it.
Which, come to think of it, was none of them. But Sammy said it
wasn’t a fight. Then what fresh hell did Dr. Wolfe have in store?

Sammy
dragged her to the next floor, and they ran down a corridor longer than the
cell block to a double gray door. It opened into a dark room with two doors on
the left and right that read ‘Seating 1’ and ‘Seating 2’. She had no time to
stop the nausea from creeping up into her throat before Sammy pulled her through
door number one and she found herself in an enclosed room much like a theatre,
with rows of metal benches on a slope, all looking down upon a giant glass
screen. Through that screen, they had a clear view of the inside of the Orb.

It
was strange seeing hell from the outside. It appeared much smaller from their
view. But the people down below looked like little dolls walking around in the
blank space where she had unleashed her flames. Hunter was shocked to see that
they weren’t kids. They were scientists.

“Hunter!”
Sammy scampered to a seat down the front with the others. About five Men in
White sat up the back with arms folded over tasers, ready to fire. Jet and
Mikayla sat close together a few rows down near the other wall. Hunter
sidestepped through the isle and squeezed in beside Will and Marcus near the
front.

“What’s
going on?”

“Don’t
know,” said Marcus. “About five minutes ago we were all ushered down here. The
guards said nothing, and there was an announcement over the speakers that we
had a special screening in the Orb. But no one’s in trouble.”

“Benji
is missing,” said Will.

“What?”
Hunter looked around and counted faces. He was right; only Benji was missing.
Something was wrong, and her stomach didn’t agree with it. She hated being
there, watching the horror down below.

“He
wasn’t at dinner.” Marcus leant forward and tapped Ryo on the shoulder. “Hey,
when did you last see Benji?”

When
she turned, Hunter saw that her usually mischievous and glowing expression had
fallen completely. Tears streaked her face. “The guards took him from his cell.
They didn’t say anything. He never did anything wrong!”

Hunter
leaned over and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I
wouldn’t bet on it,” said Zac. He was pointing to the glass window, his voice
empty. “Look.”

Inside
the Orb where the scientists were gathering in the center, they could see some
sort of machine being rolled out. It was a long black platform rather like a
conveyor belt, with two sturdy poles on either side. Behind it was a more lethal
device; a wall with silver spikes decked out all over it. Anyone who ran into
that would be staked in over twenty parts of their body.

“What
the hell-” Zac whispered.

“I
don’t like the look of this,” said Chantal uneasily.

Hunter
was literally on the edge of her seat, straining to see who was being dragged
out behind the machine, even though she already knew. Two Men in White carried
a boy with blond spikey hair, skinny as a runt. He was struggling madly between
them. The scientists – about four of them – set up the machine and stepped
away. Benji was placed on top of the conveyor belt, his wrists attached to long
chains that snaked around the poles. He was heaving, and she wondered if he
might faint. He kept twisting his head around and looking at the wall of spikes
directly behind him. It was all starting to click together, in his mind and in
Hunter’s. She turned and glanced at Will, whose face was a mask of hatred, his
hands clenched together, his jaw jerking from side to side. He knew as well.

“Welcome,
ladies and gentlemen of The Advanced Genetics and Human Exploration
Institution, to our first demonstration.” Dr. Wolfe’s voice rang loud and clear
over an intercom. All of them turned to each other with the exact same panicked
expressions.

“The
Advanced Genetics and Human
Exploration
Institution? Who the hell are
they?” asked Marcus.

“They
must be some sort of science company,” said Mosi. “Like this one, only they
probably don’t imprison kids against their will. They must be watching.”

“What
does he mean by demonstration?” asked Zac.

“I
think we’re about to find out.” Hunter wrapped her arms around herself and
wished she could take her eyes off the sight down below.

“Today,
we’ll be starting with subject number 0895,” Dr. Wolfe continued. “Benjamin Given,
age twelve. Subject has the ability to run at outstanding speeds. Our research
thus far has driven this subject to a speed of ten times the speed of sound, or
up to 1,000,000 miles per hour. We’re attempting today to test the subject’s
limits using a specially designed treadmill. This will determine exactly how
fast the subject can run when faced with certain peril.”

“Certain
peril?” Zac shouted suddenly. “There’s a goddamn porcupine up his ass!”

“Shut
up!” one of the guards yelled.

Benji
was looking around at the scientists who were getting ready their clipboards,
their cameras and the controls for the machine. He was shouting something at
them, something that they couldn’t hear over the sound of a buzzer. On the
glass, they could see the reflection of a timer counting down from ten in large
red numbers.

Hunter
wasn’t sure why she did it, but she needed some sort of support before she
slipped into panic. She reached beside her and gripped Will’s strong, warm hand
in hers, lacing her fingers between his. As the buzzer reached its final count
and everyone held their breath, Will wrapped his fingers tighter in hers.

And
then, Benji began to run.