CHAPTER TWELVE

 

CHAPTER TWELVE: THE HOST

 

               I can do this. It’s nothing, after all. Just seven years… with those things. Should be fine, I can—

“Sam” pressure on my thigh winced me away from window gazing and hurried thoughts, looking to Ian who was dimly obscured in the dark interior of the cramped car. The two men in the front were silent, passing no murmurs between themselves or making any gestures about the road or anything in general. The clearly, bright day outside couldn’t penetrate through the windows, only making the mood more tense and terrifying. “Sam, it’s going to be fine” he had me glued into this side, rubbing my arm with his head rested on mine. He had pacified the fluttering in my stomach and was now trying to obliterate my terror of the situation with soothing words and affectionate touches. I could’ve been questioning his motives for being here or I could’ve enjoyed his company,  tried to ignore the two men in the front who, only minutes ago, were going to blow his brains out and run through the memories of my seven years.

“I know. I’m being selfish. I’m so stupid, talking is nothing” Ian squeezed his arms around me to stifle my exhilarating heart that he probably felt through my tiny chest and thin shirt. I knew I was being paranoid and overreacting. It should’ve been as easy as chatting about books or movies over a few cups of coffee but it certainly didn’t feel that way. It wasn’t that I was afraid of what had happened to me or how it would affect the people around me (except Ian and Nick). It was that the past was capable of repeating itself and that I was afraid to relive it in reality or memories. Everyday was a struggle to overpower the memories of my disturbing past and it was immensely difficult when there were traces of the past everywhere I looked. I could hardly look in the mirror when all that I could see was seven years of scars etched all over my body, reminding me of the pain in getting them and who had given them to me. Then there was this new life that was so skittish and strained with the absence of my friends and family…

“Was it that horrible?” he whispered against my ear, the dampness in his breath rolled down my neck and took away my chills. I hadn’t realized how cold I was, even against Ian ‘s body. I was speechless, almost insulted by the insensitive question and his inattention. Numerous times I told him it was the worse thing that could’ve happened to anyone and had made it clear that I didn’t want to talk about it. But how could he imagine the events I had endured for seven years?

“No, I guess not”

               The Province Center, that was probably a large recreational center before the attacks, had been awaiting for my arrival. We were greeted by two guards with our Province emblem on the back of their black jackets; a red square with a brown bear in the middle. Our province was called Journey.

“She’s expected in room 1B” Ian kept an arm around me that resembled a barrier between me and the four men now escorting us through the blank halls tacked with notices and events.

“Hey, stop breathing that way. You’re going to pass out” murmured Ian in my ear. I nodded, trying to steady my breath that matched my beating heart. I wanted to throw up but I hadn’t eaten anything for a few days so all I could do was let the fluttering in my stomach replace the retching heave. If I focused on the weight of Ian’s arm on my shoulders or the way my feet clicked on the white, lament floors then maybe it would lengthen the distance between me and the room or pulverize the nerves that stimulated pain. But Ian’s arm only reminded me of the time spent underground thinking of him and his touch, and the clicking of my feet was only a muffled sound under my quickening breath and heart, plus the floors were very similar to the hospital floors.

               “Here” a blank door cut with a small window to an empty classroom sat on the corner. Ian yanked it open for me, pulling me in.

“Mr. Carter, you can’t stay”

“I can stay if I want” huffed Ian, ignoring the opened door held by the guard. The room was just as blank as the door; white on every wall with fluorescent lights that buzzed to keep the room somewhat lit. There was a dusty chalkboard with photos tapped to it. Looking closely, the photos were pictures of my scared body.

“Fine, we’ll let them handle it. Take a seat Mr. Carter. Miss Richards, sit over there” he pointed me to a lone chair up front to face a wave of desks and chairs. Ian let me slide through his arms, taking the seat closest to me as I sunk into my seat with the chalkboard behind me.

“It feels like we’re back in high school” joked Ian, scooting his desk a little to make a nauseating squeak.

“Yeah” I breathed, folding my hands in my lap but unfolded them to play with the hole in my jeans.

“It will be fine, Sam”

“I know”

“Hello! Miss Richards!” greeted Shaun, waving warmly at me with a horde of officials following behind him with notebooks. I immediately recognized Tanya amongst the group with her omniscient glance beaming through the lapses of people. She sat in the back with her arms folded, studying me with her fierce eyes and unmoving grimace. The room was filled with unfamiliar faces, squeaks of chairs and desks, and conversation that was, more than likely, just curious chatter about me. I stared into my lap, feeling numb as if I was about to ride a new rollercoaster or waiting in the dentist office.

“Okay, is everyone here?” called Frank, standing up in his seat with a clipboard. There was a swarm of murmurs then it died down when a stout man with graying , sleek hair stood up, pressing his hand over his suit with a pad of paper. Everyone’s attention was on him as he scooted through the maze of desks and chairs. Ian kept his eyes on me, biting his lip down with his hands clawing at the waxy desktop. As much as I wanted to be upset and angry at him for deceiving me for the past couple months, all I could feel was the comfort emitting off his presence. I winked at him to lessen the scowl on his face.

“Good afternoon, Miss Samantha Richards” his voice was as rustic as his sagging, bearded face. He stood to the side of me by the edge of the blackboard so I had to twist my neck to see him. “I’m head of investigation for all the provinces. We have reason to believe you have critical information that could ensure our survival and possibly inform us a little more on the hostiles” I shook my head up and down, the anxious fluttering in my stomach vanished now that we had begun. “Alright, well, let’s begin. We’ll try to get you out of here as soon as possible as long as you corporate and speak truthfully. We understand this is a very touchy subject and we can never imagine what you have been through. Okay” he paused, taking a look at his note of paper, someone shifted in their seat to make a small, etching shriek that ruffled the thick silence. I tugged on the hole of my pants some more, wishing I could be back where I had torn it. There was no reason for me to be nervous. There would only be a long series of questions and I betted that if I just blurted out the answers, I wouldn’t arouse any sickly, detailed memories or the pain that issued from them.

               He strode in front me, pen already flicked out to record my answers as if I was a unstable test experiment. The entire room followed his movement, the shuffle of paper and click of pens saluted after him. I could feel every pair of eyes scurrying over my body and lingering for sudden reactions or nervous jittering. “We’ll start off with basics. How long were you in alien custody?”

“Seven years” I gave a sigh of relief, that had been easy. Only two million more questions to go.

“Where were you kept?”

“In a underground base in Corona but I was first  in an exhibit… but I don’t know where that was” I squeaked, hugging my clasped hands between my thighs while waiting for the next question.

“An exhibit?”

“Yes”

“Can you elaborate for us?” here came the deeper questions.

“It was like a zoo” I paused, losing my breath for a moment and thought I was not able to continue on “of humans” a few mumbles and hisses came. The man raised his eyebrows, looking away to see a tag clipped to his pocket with his photo and name, Carl Sinbad. “They put me in a cage and treated me like a theme park attraction” the cage I had lived in, the laser beam, bars and titanium base, with the ongoing sound of laughter and shouts blazed in the back of my head.

“There were other humans?”

“Yes, but they disappeared over time” I murmured, remembering the little girl with the golden locks beside my cage—

“What did they do with them?”

“What do you think?” I snarled, growing a bit flustered now that memories were broiling over my eyes.

“Calm down. Just answer the question” I rubbed the heel of my palm on my forehead, closing my eyes briefly to situate myself into a calming state and remind myself that this would be over soon and that the memories weren’t real anymore. I was being selfish and piteous if I didn’t talk.

“They used them for study after a few weeks of containment”

“What kind of studies?” the simplicity of the questions frustrated me. It wasn’t hard to imply what kind of studies they would do. The aliens were very similar to us in that way; curious and thirsty for new knowledge.

“Lab experiments, dissections, everything we do to animals and the things around us except on us.”

“What did they want to know?”

“Umm… mostly to understand us, better”

“How do you know?” shouted Tanya’s voice over the crowd of people’s head, everyone looking back. I gaped, looking up to Carl Sinbad for the next question but he seemed influenced by the sudden intrusion and was, too, curious for my answer.

“I can understand them” there were a few gasps.

“How so?”

“I can read, write, talk, listen like them” I shrugged. The room became excited in quick comments and scribbling of pens.

“Then, you know what this all means?” he pulled a plastic, clear bag out with a pamphlet inside, immediately recognizing the alien language typed all over it. He threw it into my lap casually but anyone could see the excitement beaming out of him.

“Yes. This is the brochure I took before I escaped. It’s all the locations of the underground bases” another flock of excitement burst into the room, handing back the plastic bag.

“And what exactly is an underground base?”

“It’s like an information center for our planet. But it has several layers. Labs, holding chambers” I shivered, the dark hall ramming against my thoughts “eating halls, sleeping wards” he nodded, pacing in front of me just as the murmuring died down. I took my first glimpse at Ian. He was sitting quietly with his hands calmly rested on the desk and his stare transfixed on me.

“Alright, let’s go back to the studies” I gulped, returning my eyes to the palms in my lap. Images of brains lobes swimming in jars and glazed eyes poking out of stripped sockets surfaced over my mind, drowning my pep talks to myself, Ian’s protective glance, and composure to an unreachable depth. “Would you agree with the statement that the hostiles are advanced in technology? Possibly more advanced than ours?”

“Defiantly yes” I choked, thinking back to the photos behind me that confirmed my answer.

“Did their technology make the scars that are photographed behind you?”

“Yes” I didn’t have to look back, closing my eyes to close my windpipe, feeling faint.

“Would you please remove your clothing so the others can see the scars?”

“What?”

“I don’t think so!” Ian slammed the desk and jumped out of his seat, his melancholy face had been ready for this, immediately switching into a venomous scowl. Everyone looked to Ian as two men beside him tried to pull him back into his seat. “You can’t do that!”

“The others can’t see the scars”

“I don’t care” he hissed, a third man gripping him from around his hip to rest him back into the seat. My limbs were shaking, the thought of standing before the group, that was dominantly men, naked and revealing my scars that were painful enough to look at and touch was petrifying and mortifying. “She’s a lady”

“This is an investigation, sir. If you can’t show appropriate manners, we’ll have security take you away. Now—Miss Richards, please” I nodded, biting back tears as I stood up with wobbly knees, beginning to slip away my pants.

“Sam, you don’t have—“

“Mr. Carter, please” I ripped away my shirt to get it over with. Stunned at the cold air breathing through the air conditioner and slithering over my pale skin but couldn’t bleach out the dark scars that looked like they burned through my skin, I scrunched my eyes as I breathed it in.

“Oh Sam” I gave a weak smile to Ian to show that it was nothing.

“Please spin so they can see the other scars” I did as he said, twirling slowly on the hard floor that wasn’t nearly as blanched as me. “All these scars were caused by them?”

“Yes” I breathed, trying to cover some of the scars with my arms across my stomach and my hands holding my back. Everyone’s eyes roamed over my body that hadn’t gained much fat since being immersed in food and a refrigerator only a minute away.

“Can someone bring a first aid kit? She’s bleeding” I gasped, forgetting about the insides of my thighs that were caked with blood with a few trickles running down the back of my thighs from rubbing against my jeans. Ian’s face was dumbfounded, watching the blood lazily flow past my knee, then it flushed in shock and anger. I’m going to hear about this later. I took the cloth and handful of band aids with my eyes averted to the ground, sitting back into the chair to clean myself up with Ian drilling his eyes into me.

“Once you are done, can you draw to the best that you can, the weapons that made each scar under the photos”

“That’s horrible!” complained Ian, another slam of his fist on the desk disturbed the pensive silence.

“Mr. Carter, do you wish to step outside” Mr. Sinbad handed me a piece of chalk and directed me to the board.

“Can she at least put some clothes on? Damn, you guys are animals” numbly, I began drawing under the first photo, remembering the first time I had felt it. It was blade that only grazed the skin or went entirely through your body like a mist but was hot and would burn for hours.

                Luckily, there were only a few photos since there were only four weapons or so that had been used on me, but numerous times. “Here, Sammy” I flinched, the chalk stick slipping out of my fingers and a rush of panic flooding over me at the soft touch on my shoulder. Ian was holding up his jacket “Take it” he slipped my arms through the sleeves, his eyes continually darting down to my visible scars before zipping it. The sudden touch on my shoulder had my uneasy emotions lapping over the edge, wanting to cry for no logical reason. He kissed my forehead and returned to his seat, giving a glare to Carl Sinbad before he slowly lowered himself into his seat.

“Please continue. If you can, explain what each one does?”

“They’re all torture devices” I snapped through a choked voice, grabbing the chalk from off the floor and beginning to draw. With every stroke, I could feel the scar burn and ache as if the weapon was pressing up against it. I wasn’t a very good drawer and I was greatly upset focusing on the weapons that had ransacked my body and killed many, so my drawings weren’t very detailed and I spent little time on them.

               I sat back down, crossing my arms over my chest, someone sneezed in the back and a few murmurs  of “bless you” came after.

“You didn’t really tell us what they are—“his eyes were dark, assertively glaring at me.

“I already told you. They’re torture weapons. All I know is that they hurt like hell” I snarled “And I don’t want to talk about them. I’ve seen too many people die to them” my voice was shaky and my hands were trembling from holding the bottom of my chair too hard. Glowering out at the sea of people in front of me, I tried to find my composure so I didn’t have a fist fight with the eighty year old man in front of me or bawl into Ian’s lap. My scars still burned like the memories of seeing lives taken from the weapons. I was lucky to walk away from them with only some nasty scars and mouthfuls of morbid memories.

“Fine, please calm down. Now, you said that people have died to them? How come you didn’t? Why didn’t they kill you like the others? Didn’t you say that the hostiles killed the humans only a few weeks after containment? What made you special” my jaw dropped, shifting in my chair. This had been a topic I hadn’t revisited and blatantly hid and refused to talk about, especially when Ian was in the room and it involved him.

“I don’t want to talk about it” it took my breath away how easily the memory crawled through the bastion of tangles in my mind. My heart thudded against my chest, having to swallow a couple times because of hyperventilating.

“I’m sorry. We must know. It’s strange to us that they so easily disposed of humans. Only weeks but they kept you for seven years. It might not be important but could. We don’t know. So tell us or we’ll be here all night” my throat was dry but managed to bring out a clear and insipid voice.

“The aliens” I began, staring intently at my knee caps to keep Ian out of my view and block out the gargantuan amount of eyes staring at me. “Tended to pick out females” I paused again, trying to push out my voice “They used males for dissections and study of behaviors, things like that”

“So—“

“They studied the females because of studies of our ability to bear children and of course hormones and the same studies of the males. But—“

“How does that make you outlast the others?” Maybe I was overreacting like I had with everything else. It had only lasted a few months but—“Well?”

“I—I was pregnant” no one seemed to stir when I said this, expect Ian. Tears built up, pressing my eyes to my knees to stifle the pounding in my head. Holding Ian’s child had taken the fear away in the few months and given me enough hope and a reason to live. When Ian had given the rings, we saw ourselves as married and had expressed our love for each other that same night, a month before I was taken, unaware of the pregnancy.

“You were pregnant with an alien or—“

“Human” I breathed.
”So they kept you longer because you were pregnant?”

“Yes”

“What happened to the baby?” I hugged myself, my chest bobbing in dry sobs.

“Died at around four to six months I think. I spitted at one of the new guards when he tried to take me to the lab for some tests. He hit me with the pen thing behind me.” I swung my arm to the back of me to the weapon that looked like a thick pen. The aliens just pressed it against one’s skin and pushed the top so a shock wave would flow through the victim’s body. “Immediately after, I went into labor. The baby was dead” I buried my face in my lap to muffle out my sobs and hide my shame.

“But they kept you anyways after that?” Carl didn’t even offer a complementary pause, just like squeezing an open wound or pressing a bruise. I nodded, wiping the tears off my face and putting a thick wall in front of my thoughts and the images of my dead baby. “Why”

“They thought maybe I could get pregnant again and started pairing me up with other guys. But that never worked. So they kept me in the underground base with others. They decided they’d use me for another study. They slowed down on studies because they were beginning to run out of test subjects. I escaped when I heard they were finally going to use me, the last human” I hated referring to us; humans as test subjects. “ And they liked me around for pleasurable reasons” I scowled, pushing away Shadow Eater’s grimy hands on me. The room had returned to the silence but the exception for my sniffling and Mr. Sinbad’s pacing.

“Seven years. That’s a long time” I gritted my teeth “You must’ve picked up some information”

“Not much. I can tell you about them. They can be killed, their bodies are fragile like ours but they are bit stronger and faster than us.” My voice was a squeak, speaking quickly so I could leave. Immersed in my dusty covers in the tiny cabins with a few slices to my thighs sounded so good just like the thought of ramming my head on a rock to knock out the vile images out of my head and drift into a settling sleep. “They have green blood can extend their fingers. Their manners are different then ours. More peaceful and united” I scowled “Even though they tortured me everyday and killed everyone… Umm—they have three hearts… I know I can find more about them” suddenly I felt empowered. I would make them pay for everything they had done—

“Is that it? Well” he paused, the blazing feeling of immortality faded away through the misery and dour mood. “We will take a break. We still want more details on what they’ve done to you but it’s late. Expect us later for you services. Everyone is dismissed” They still wanted to hear more from me!

               He had taken everything so lightly, just like everyone else. The people, who had scrutinized, watched me take my clothing off, made me reveal my horrible memories, and had seen me in distress, got out of the seats in a social manner. They shook hands, laughed about jokes and shared news as if the five hours or so hadn’t passed all. I wanted out. The memories were spewing out through cracks from my ruptured mind and drenched me in powerful anger and the most unbearable, immense throbbing.

               I lunged out of the chair, forgetting my clothes shriveled on the floor and walked through the pack of people, pushing and shoving every cheery or oblivious face in my way. No one noticed me. Not a single person even stopped me to make a few comments or ask personal questions. I was invisible; nothing.

“Sam!” Ian called over the uproar of socializing. I didn’t glance back, swinging the door open and running down the hall. My shoulder slammed into the door just as the early night’s air immediately rushed to me like a ambush of piranhas to a scrap of food. “SAM!” I ran, streetlights lighting my way along the road. I hadn’t gone far until fasting, ravaging memories and parasitic emotions dealt their final blow, slaying me to the ground into unconsciousness.