Chapter 1.

Chapter 1.

“The little girl cried as the new Miss Virginia strolled down the victor’s aisle, for she had lost the competition and all her dreams were crushed.”

A disgust filled sigh escaped my lips as I slammed the book shut and placed it back on the shelf. My fingers danced over the various leather covers until they settled on a title they knew well. Taking great care not to damage the already worn book, I gently removed it.

“The Lord of the Flies, by William Goldin.” I flipped through the familiar delicate pages that had been my companion for so many years.

“Kyle, free period is over.” A soft high voice chimed.

I cast an uncaring glance at my caretaker, though hidden behind my eyes was a swirling mass of contempt that seared my insides, desperate to be visibly released.

The Asian woman gave me a small smile. Clad in her white lab clothes, with her raven hair pulled into a tight bun, she was absolutely pristine. Perfect. And that’s why I despised her, because underneath that clean cut, flawless guise was a being so twisted and tainted it was sick. The curve in her lips never wavered but a more demanding tone was interwoven into her condescendingly cheerful voice.

“Kyle, free period is over. Please put the book away.”

Complying mostly because causing trouble would be pointless, I placed, The Lord of the Flies, back into its place. I stepped away and stared at the bookshelf, filled with longing. It and the literature it held were the only things of color in the entire facility. Everything around me from the walls to my caretaker were just white. Simple and clean. Often the purest exterior hides the foulest interior. Feet functioning as well as if they were made of stone, I ambled over to my awaiting caretaker.

“Good boy.” She brushed brown strands out of my green eyes and held out her hand, the smooth palm almost glowing in the artificial light.

Reluctance surged through me, and it felt like my muscles had turned to glue as I placed my upward facing arm into her claws. Perfectly manicured nails punctured the skin on my wrist as she pushed my sleeve. Still holding that perfect pawnshop replica of a smile, she withdrew a glinting needle from her back. Even the liquid that dripped from the tip was white. Without warning or even a countdown, she plunged the syringe into my arm and began to inject the liquid.

I shut my eyes so tight I saw spots as a burning agony burst through my veins. It felt like my very blood was ablaze. As I said; the ugliest stuff comes in the most innocent packages.

“Good boy.”

My teeth ached from clenching them too hard. I felt like a slug who was getting dabbed with salt. Good boy. I scoffed inwardly. That was something you say to a dog and I am no dog. No matter how much obedience they beat into me the past seventeen years, I would not break.

“Come.” She withdrew the needle and dabbed the trickling blood with a swab. “It’s midmeal time.” She turned her back to me as she closed and locked the study’s automatic doors.

Part of me longed to strike her from behind but the shock collar around my neck was a symbol that I knew better. You could not win in this place. All thoughts of rebellion were better thrown to a dark corner than left scrambling around in one’s mind.

After she was done securing the study, we began our trek to the dining hall, my caretaker walking briskly in front of me and me ambling behind. White walls and floors shone all around, almost blinding, the unchanging paint job only compromised by the occasional words in black bolded letters.

The Darwin Project.

Three simple words that had dictated and tortured me for as long as I could remember. It might as well read The Child Slavery  Project.

“Kyle, come.” The doors to the meal room were open and my caretaker waited for me next to the door’s control panel.

Not giving her a second glance, I strode past her and sat in my assigned place while lunch was being handed out. I didn’t even have to look up to know exactly what was placed in front of me. It had been the same thing since the moment I had teeth. Liver, mash potatoes, green peas, and a partially stale roll. I cut a piece of liver and stuck it in my mouth. This food was purely nourishment, a tool to keep me alive (if you can call this living), nothing more, nothing less. When you eat the same thing your entire life eventually you become numb to any sensation of flavor. I glanced up and briefly made eye contact with, “The Frog,” a shrimp of a kid who was surrounded by caretakers. The Frog was allergic to gluten which means he has a different selection of food from the rest of us. The Frog stared back down at his food, bottom lip swollen and purple. Let’s just say some of the people here would take drastic measures just for the experience of a new taste.

“Nero!” A dirty blonde boy was shoving his way towards me. His caretaker, visibly agitated, hovered around him like a frantic mother bird. He whirled on her and smacked her hand away. “Hands off me old crone!” With a crazy grin and wild eyes he plopped down beside me and swung his legs over the bench. “How’s the food today?”

I smiled at my only, very eccentric, friend.

“The same as it always is. How are you Sam?”

“Amazing now! It feels so good to be called by a human name, the way mother earth intended! All day, every day, it’s Codename: Newt this, Codename: Newt that. You unnaturally altered my body and forcefully infused newt DNA into my blood stream! I get it! No need to add insult to injury by calling me the very thing you made me to be!” Sam wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me uncomfortably close. “I envy you Nero. I really do. You’re the only one out of all of us that gets to be called by a name instead of a code!”

“A. I told you to call me by my first name. B. We’ve been over this before, at least you know what they’ve done to you. I have no idea what I’m made up of!” I pushed his arm off me.

“Well at least you haven’t had your body altered!” he pulled down his bottom eyelid for emphasis.

I glanced away. I hated looking at his eyes. They, like so many of the other kid’s body modifications, were a grim reminder these people could do anything they wanted to us.

“Come on Nero. Turn around and look at me. Can’t you look in your best friend’s eyes?”

Driven by guilt, I shifted my eyes to his.

They were a bright amber, which was relatively normal, but his pupils were elongated and sideways, like that of a goat…or a newt.

I squirmed underneath his warped gaze. It felt as though fire ants were crawling throughout my skin. I had to get him on a different topic. Anything will do! Anything at all!

“What happened to your neck?” I drew my attention away from his eyes and to the nasty red blistering marks around his shock collar.

He gave me a crazed look and itched at the marks.

“I acted up today.” Scratch, scratch. “Gave my caretaker a nice old busted lip.” Scratch, scratch. “Caretaker went wild with the zapper.”

I yanked his hand away from his throat, worry surging through me as I refrained my friend from irritating his already festering wound.

“Sam, you mean those are burn marks?”

He nodded, eyes shifting and a crazed smile still plastered on his face.

“Darnit Sam! Let me see!”

Sam tilted his head back to give me a better view. The burn was horrendous. I lightly dabbed at it with my napkin, causing him to cry out.

“Aw Sam. How could you do this to yourself? This is serious.”

“Awww, Nero, you really do care!” He splayed his right leg over both of my own and leaned in close, face puckered and dripping with sarcasm. “Will you kiss it and make it better?”

I whacked him slightly on the head.

“You idiot.”

Sam had always been like this, since the moment he was brought in as a six year old. In fact that’s how he came to sit next to me. Originally he had been assigned a seat on the other side of the room, but he had been absolutely crazy; screaming, scratching, even biting. It took five caretakers to even slightly subdue him. They moved him around until he came to be next to me and for some reason as soon as he saw me he never acted up during meal time again. When I asked him why he said it was because he just simply liked my face.

“Hey Nero!”

I jumped, flung from my memories by Sam’s booming voice.

“What is it Sam?” I rubbed my ear, trying to recover my full hearing.

“You were totally out of it! Right Jacob?” Sam turned to his side.

I rolled my eyes. Jacob was another one of Sam’s many…quirks.

“So where’s Jacob sitting today Sam?”

Sam cocked an eyebrow and shot me a disapproving face.

“He’s sitting right across from you, don’t be rude!”

I stared at the empty seat in front of me and gave my most realistic grin.

“Hiya Jacob, how are you on this fine midmeal?”

A wild cankerous laugh that sent chills down my spine emitted from Sam as he slapped his hand down on my shoulder.

“Isn’t Jacob a riot?”

“Yeah…”

Sam’s caretaker approached us and for the first time I noticed a red cut on her dry colorless lip.

“Codename: Newt, midmeal is now done. It is time to go back with the rest of your group.”

Sam shot her a smirk and laid his head on my lap.

“Sorry crone, I don’t wanna.”

“Sam.” I hissed between my teeth.

The caretaker shot me a piercing glare and her wrinkly face grew more wrinkled with the displeasure.

Crone really was the best adjective for her.

“Who is this Sam?”

“It’s me old bat. Not codename, or newt, but Sam.”

The caretaker’s face formed into something resembling a prune.

“I’m afraid I cannot allow any of this.” she grabbed him by his ear, getting a high yelp from Sam. Though her voice was calm and level, as was all the caretaker’s voices, her eyes revealed a deep set hatred that blazed so eminently it made me was to cower. “You are not Sam, you are not anybody other than Codename: Newt. You belong to the Darwin Project. You belong to the future. Now come!”

“No!” he elbowed her in the gut, and as she staggered backwards he had just enough time to whisper in my ear before electrical currents raced through his body.

 “There are rumors throughout the groups of a revolt.”

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

I apologize for any grammatical errors.