Michael Vey: Rise Of The Elgen Part 43

"Really? Is that why Quentin put dog p.o.o.p in your bed?"

Bryan looked at Quentin. "You did that?"

Quentin shoved him. "He's just messing with your head, man."

"Yeah, he did it. Zeus watched him."

Bryan glared at him.

"I didn't do it," Quentin said. "That was Tanner."

"Tanner was in England," Bryan said.

"I told you," I said. "They're always making fun of you behind your back."

Bryan stormed out of my cell. I turned my attention to Torstyn. "C'mon, tough guy, let me out. Let's see how tough you are."

For a moment he looked as if he actually might do it. I didn't know if I had any chance against him, I didn't even know what his powers were, but I figured he couldn't be worse than a million rats.

"He's messing with you, too," Tara said. "Enough of this loser. Let's get out of here."

"You know, your sister is so much cooler than you are," I said. "In Meridian she has like a million friends. I guess beauty really is more than skin deep."

"So are rats," Tara said.

"That doesn't even make sense," I said.

Quentin said, "We thought watching the bulls get eaten was sick. You getting eaten is going to be epic."

"Enjoy it. Your turn's coming soon. Someday Hatch will be feeding you to something," I said.

"That shows how little you know," Quentin said. "Dr. Hatch is like a father to us. He'd never hurt one of us."

"Yeah, Tanner thought that too," I said.

My reply stumped him.

Tara said, "Tanner was a screwup."

"Then you better hope you don't screw up," I said. "Because, father or not, Hatch is afraid of you. Do you know why he's executing me? He told me he's afraid that if he doesn't, one of you will someday take him down."

Suddenly a beeper went off on my RESAT and a wave of pain pa.s.sed through my body, freezing me. I grimaced. Through clenched teeth I said, "I guess someone doesn't want me telling you the truth."

A guard walked briskly into the room. "It's time to leave," he said. "The prisoner is getting agitated."

"Hatch is getting agitated," I said.

The guard quickly ushered them out. Tara turned back at the door. "Enjoy the bowl."

"You too," I said.

Hours later Hatch walked into my room wearing his sungla.s.ses. He came to the side of my cot and sat down but didn't say anything. They hadn't turned down the RESAT, so I was still struggling to breathe.

"Twelve," he said.

The pain dropped immediately-not completely, but enough for me to take a deep breath. I turned toward him.

"It's that easy," Hatch said. "Just one word and the pain goes away."

"I don't think your kids' visit went the way you planned."

Hatch didn't answer, but I saw his jaw tighten.

"I met Torstyn. You said that the other four kids had died."

"Truth is relative."

"Then I'm not dying?"

"You're dying-just not from cancer. You're actually quite healthy, you oath-breaking, insignificant bug." Hatch looked down at his watch. "It's almost time. It's a shame it had to end this way. There are few things sadder in life than squandered opportunity. You could have been great. I could have made you a G.o.d."

"You must be dyslexic," I said. "I think you meant to say 'dog.'"

He leaned in close. "In spite of your continual insolence, it's not too late, Michael. One word and I can still save you."

"Why would you want to save an insignificant bug?"

"Don't try me!" Hatch shouted. "I'm giving you a chance at salvation." He calmed himself. "I don't think you've ever really thought this through. You've seen how we live-how our youths live. They have whatever they want. I know you're not the materialistic type, and I honestly admire that. I too am a man of principles. But what principles allow you to watch your mother suffer every day of her life and do nothing about it? There she is, working herself to the bone, just trying to put food on the table, trying to take care of you. That's not a life, Michael, that's an existence-and a poor one at that. If you joined us, really joined us, your mother wouldn't have to work another day for the rest of her life. She could see the world, dine at fancy restaurants, drive a new car, wear nice clothing, live in a beautiful home. Doesn't she deserve that? Don't you want that for her? Don't you love her enough to give that to her?"

"My mother deserves everything you just said," I replied. "But there's more to life than things."

"Of course there is. There's happiness. And is she happy?"

"Most of the time," I said.

"She acts that way for you, Michael. Because she loves you. Don't you love her? Wouldn't she be happier without all the stress and worry? Be honest, Michael."

"Not at the price you're asking."

"What price?" he said. "My offer to you is free."

"Nothing is free," I said. "The price is my allegiance to you."

"And is that too much to ask? You will never be raised higher than when you are kneeling to me."

I lay there quietly for a moment, then said, "I'd rather kneel to a rat."

His expression turned to rage. "So you shall," he said. "You fool. Again I have offered you the world and you spit it back at me." He looked up at a camera and said, "Make it twenty."

Immediately the RESAT buzzed, and pain racked my body. I gasped, my eyes welling up from the pain.

"It's time," Hatch said to the guard. "Take him to the chute." He turned back to me, leaning in close enough that I could feel his breath. "You have no idea how much I'm going to enjoy this." He stood and walked away.

Immediately the two guards were by my side. They checked my shackles and wires, pulled out my IV, and unplugged my RESAT from the wall.

Two more guards walked in. One came behind my cot, knelt down, and unlocked the wheels on my gurney; the other pulled out a plastic handle from the front and pulled me forward. The two guards who were already in the room walked behind the bed until I was outside the cell door, then they came to my side and walked in formation, slowly and at attention, like a color guard. I was wheeled from my cell through a long, concrete-floored corridor with tiled walls.

I had a flashback to the time I was seven years old and was taken to the hospital to have my tonsils removed, my mother and father had walked next to me as I was wheeled to the operating room. I found out later that I had shocked the doctor while he was operating.

Why am I thinking about this? Maybe that's what the mind does when it can't face its own reality-it searches for another one. It was safer to be seven again.

I was in such excruciating pain that everything seemed nightmarishly unreal. The walls blurred past me, partially hidden by the guards, who moved without a word, steady and emotionless like robots, their heavy boots echoing through the hallway. We stopped, waited for a double set of doors to open, then entered a different room with high ceilings. I've been here before, I thought. I heard Spanish being spoken in whispers, and above me I could see the curve of the bowl. I was in the ranch entrance, the room where we had entered the power plant. Of course I was. They were taking me to the lift Raul had shown us, where they brought the bulls to feed to the rats.

Time was running out. If I was going to escape it had to be now. I had to think of something-but even thinking seemed impossible. My mind felt like it was on a long string, like a kite, floating away from me, connected by nothing but a quivering line. I was helpless. I couldn't think. I couldn't move. I was going to die.

The cart stopped, and the guards lifted my bed and set it on the lift. I must have blacked out from pain for a few seconds because the next thing I knew I was already high up in the air, approaching an open trapdoor in the ceiling.

This was it. Doubt began to creep in. Hatch's words returned to me, mocking me. Where are your friends now, Michael? Was he right? Had they deserted me? I fought Hatch's lies. I had left them. I had locked the pipe behind me. Of course they would have come for me if I hadn't made it impossible. I had told them to run, to escape. If they didn't try to save me, it was my fault, not theirs.

The lift stopped abruptly. I tried to look around, but I could barely move my head. I was in a dark room lit by dim, amber lights flickering like candles. There were people there. Guards? Ranchers? No. They were dressed all in black like the guards, but they were executioners.

Thoughts of my loved ones came flooding into my mind: Taylor and her beautiful eyes. I wondered if they would cry for me. I thought about Ostin and the time he blew up his parents' new microwave because he was sure he could create cold fusion in a Tupperware container.

Mostly, I thought of my mother. I had read somewhere that grown men, dying on the battlefield, cried out for their mothers. I understood that. I wanted to be with her again. At least she was safe, I told myself. Tears fell down both sides of my cheeks.

The executioners were methodical and quiet, not even speaking among themselves. I was grateful for this. The Elgen guards would have mocked me. They would have laughed at my tears, then slapped me a few more times before sending me off to my end. Perhaps the executioners had seen too much death. There were two, maybe three in the room. I couldn't see their faces. Were they wearing hoods? It was hard to tell. Whatever they wore over their faces was stiff and resembled a mask. They all wore the same disguise, making them anonymous. Do they feel anonymous? Are they wearing their masks for me or for themselves?

I was unstrapped from the cot, lifted, and set on a conveyor belt. A strap, made from the same rubberized material that my shackles were, was pulled around my chest, next to the RESAT, and my bound wrists were lifted and buckled to it.

Is Ian watching me? Or were they already on their way back to America? Part of me felt relief that I wouldn't have to fight anymore. The fight was theirs now. I had given all I could.

An executioner turned a k.n.o.b on the RESAT, and I groaned as my body convulsed with more pain. At first I thought he had done this out of cruelty, but as my thoughts became more blurred I realized that he was probably acting in mercy, dulling me to the impending agony of being eaten alive.

Alive. I was too young to die! I wanted to live and fall in love and someday have children of my own. I had wondered if they would be electric too. My Tourette's could be pa.s.sed on, why not my electricity? And what if I married Taylor? Would our children possess multiple powers?

What if. What if I had just gone with them? Maybe we could have made it. Maybe we would all be together. Or maybe we would all be together in here. There was no use second-guessing what I couldn't know. I had made my decision. What was done was done.

One of the executioners began spraying something on me from a hose, soaking my clothing and skin. What is this? It smells sweet.

There was suddenly a loud beep like the sound a garbage truck makes when it's backing up. From its echo I guessed it was coming from the bowl itself. I didn't think about its meaning, as I was certain it had something to do with feeding time. A thin, tinny voice from an intercom spoke to the executioners. I couldn't understand what was said, nor did I try. One of the executioners grunted a response then pushed a b.u.t.ton. A loud, stoic, female voice began counting down from ten.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven . . ."

My executioners put on earphones. "Five, four, three . . ."

On the wall ahead of me, near my feet, a door slid open and the color of the room immediately changed, lit by an amber glow like the flickering of a fire. The rats. They were waiting.

"Two, one. Commence feeding."

The beeping suddenly stopped, replaced by a single long tone. There was no rescue coming. I had run out of time.

A light above me began to flash, then the conveyor started to move beneath me. My heart froze. "No . . . ," I said.

I was so weak. There was nothing I could do but wait. At least it wouldn't take long. Soon everything would be over.

The hours waiting for nighttime pa.s.sed quietly. The bread, water, and fruit were long gone, and everyone was thirsty, tired, and hungry. As darkness fell over the jungle Ostin gathered everyone together to review the plan one more time. Just sitting together in the darkness already revealed a flaw in their plan. "The guards in the towers are going to see your glow," Ostin said. "They'll shoot you through the trees."

"Easy fix," Taylor said. "Everyone who's electric follow me." She led them over to a spot near the edge of their camp where the ground was still wet from the rain the night before. She scooped up a handful of moist dirt and rubbed it over her hands and face. With the exception of Zeus, the rest of them covered one another with the dark soil. Jack and Wade said they were rubbing mud on for solidarity, but the truth was they loved the commando look.

As soon as the last of the light had vanished, they said a quick good-bye to Mrs. Vey, Tanner, and Raul, then set off through the jungle in single file, Ian and Taylor leading the group. Zeus slowed their pace considerably. He was finally walking on his own, but he had to lean heavily on Jack. Had they not needed his power they would have sent him off with Raul. Wade, Ostin, and McKenna walked at the rear of the column, carrying the dynamite.

They traveled east in an ellipse, making a wide swing into the jungle to avoid being spotted by the tower guards at the northeast corner of the interior fence. When they were past the compound they circled back in, crouching at the perimeter of the barbwire fence just thirty-five yards from the pump house.

The pump house was a simple adobe-brick structure with a tin roof and barred windows. A large pipe, nearly three feet in diameter, was visible on the east side of the structure. It rose up from the ground forming a loop.

"There it is," Ostin whispered. He turned to Taylor. "Is group two ready?"

"Ready," Taylor said.

"We're ready," Jack said.

Ostin looked at Zeus. "You okay?"

He was clearly still in a lot of pain but nodded. "Let's shut them down."

"We should test the wire," Taylor said.

"Good idea," Ian said. He and Taylor grabbed the barbwire about six feet apart.

"What number am I thinking of?" Ian asked.

"You're not," Taylor said. "You're thinking about that fruit."

"It works," Ian said, releasing the wire.

"All right," Ostin said. "See you after the fireworks. Good luck, everyone."

While Taylor led group two back into the jungle, Ostin, Wade, McKenna, and Ian covered themselves with branches, then crawled on their stomachs under the barbwire closer to the pump house. Ian and Wade carried the dynamite on their backs but had to take their packs off to slide them through the fence. They all stopped about fifteen yards from the house.

"What's going on in there?" Ostin asked Ian.

"There's a guy sitting at a console."

"Just one guy?"