Gauntlet: Chapter 5

Her appearance didn’t seem to cause much of a stir. A few cold stares were directed her way, but she was quickly dragged through a door and deeper into the complex. She grabbed at doorjambs and walls and anything they passed in the dark hallways; her fingers bruised as the men yanked her free.

She gasped when they paused in front of a holding cell. A dozen droolers were crowded inside it, crouched or shuffling aimlessly. A man in a white lab coat scribbled at a clipboard.

One of her guards released her. She cried out and tried to leap away, but the second guard shoved her against the wall, pinning her in place. She watched helplessly as the first guard disappeared down the hallway.

The guard who still pinned her looked to the man in the lab coat. “When did these come in?” he asked.

“Early this morning. They did a roundup last night.” The man in the lab coat seemed irritated.

“We haven’t finished processing the last batch.”

“There’s been an increase in quota.” The man jabbed at his clipboard and scowled.

“It’s because they’ve been interfering again,” the guard muttered.

“Overstepping their boundaries. They should stay in their precious sanctuary, if they know what’s good for them.”

“I heard they took a scouting detail last week.”

The man in the coat spat. “They won’t be able to reverse the process this time.”

“They say he’s good,” the guard said doubtfully.

The man in the coat turned an angry red. “We’ve been told not to discuss it. If you’re so intrigued, why don’t you join them?” He walked away stiffly, without another word.

The guard cast a dark look after him, then turned his glare on Clio. Clio recoiled against the wall.

He pushed her roughly down the hall and through a white room that made her blood run cold. It held a chair with numerous straps, and machines whose purposes she didn’t dare guess. She was almost happy to be thrust into a separate cell–complete with bars, a small sink, and an open metal toilet.

Another luxury accommodation, courtesy of the Gauntlet.

The guard disappeared into the attached room. After several minutes of silence, she was sure he was gone.

She looked around for anything like a surveillance camera. She didn’t find one, but she knew it could just be hidden. She scoured the cell for any sign of a concealed exit, but it seemed her luck had taken a permanent vacation.

It had been dehumanizing to be so utterly ignored, to be treated as if she were mindless already. She shuddered at the memory of that chair covered in straps. She didn’t want to end up there.

Clio curled up in the corner of the cell and watched the door. After an endless wait and no better plan in her head, she drifted off into uncomfortable sleep.

***

She woke to someone in surgical scrubs hovering over her.

She yelped and shot up from the floor. The figure wore a mask, but she was pretty sure he was male. He closed in on her and gripped her arm.

“Wait,” she begged as he steered her from the cell. “Don’t do this. Please!”

He ignored her. But his grip was less bruising than that of the guard, and he was alone. Her desperation jumped on that.

“I-if you let me go, I’ll give you one of these.” She held up her bracelet. “You pick which one.”

The hooded figure just prodded Clio out into the hallway. Her right leg was numb and turning prickly from the awkward position she’d slept in; she limped in front of her escort because she didn’t have much choice.

When they turned down the corridor that led to the processing room, panic hit Clio. She dug in her heels.

“Please– I’m not one of them! I’m not a drooler. You can’t!”

A snort came from within the depths of the hood. It was the first sign that a real person was under there, and that he might actually have a personality.

“I’ll give you two of the charms,” she bargained. “Or…or the whole thing.”

The figure lifted a gloved finger to his lips. “I’ll do it for free,” he whispered.

Clio gaped.

Hope flared in her, but she tamped it down with healthy mistrust. “Wh-what do you mean?” she asked warily.

“I mean that I’m busting you out.” A thread of humor ran through the voice. “I’ve always wanted to say that.” He tilted his hooded head. “What did the stamp say to the envelope?”

“What?” Clio asked, more surprised than meaning to respond.

“Stick with me, kid, and you’ll go places.”

Clio stared. This guy had either escaped his own “processing” session and was wandering the building with his screws loose, or he was just messing with her and leading her to her own personal nightmare.

“Where are you taking me?” she hissed.

“Shh. No time for a chat.” He gently took her arm and pulled her down a hallway that–thankfully–led away from the medical wing.

Clio shut up for a moment as a pair of gray-clad soldiers passed them in the hallway. They didn’t even look at her. When the soldiers disappeared around a corner, she leaned in to whisper, “Why are you helping me?”

The man in the scrubs shrugged. “We’re always watching them. If we don’t keep them in line, they start making trouble for us. And something funny’s been going on lately. When I saw them bring you in, I figured you had something to do with that; I couldn’t just leave you here.” His voice turned grim. “You’ve seen some of what they can do.”

Clio’s mind raced through the conversation between her guard and the man in the lab coat. “Are you…are you from that place they were talking about?” she breathed. “That sanctuary?”

The man stopped, ignoring her for a moment as he pressed a random spot on the wall. A panel slid open to reveal a keypad. He tapped in a number and a door opened.

A utility tunnel lay beyond it. He laughed as he climbed down and continued into the featureless corridor.

“Well, I never called it a sanctuary,” he said with a modest cast to his voice. “But I guess it’s nice that people think of it that way.”

Clio’s suspicion still weighed like lead in her gut. “You knew about this tunnel,” she accused.

“Oh, I’ve been here a long time. I’ve picked up some useful tricks here and there.”

“How long?”

“Four years.”

“Four years?” Clio felt sick.

“Don’t worry about it. I made that decision a long time ago.”

“You mean…you chose to stay here?”

He nodded, and Clio found herself wishing she could see his face. There was no reason he needed to stay hidden now, was there? Unless…her imagination began to get the better of her. Perhaps he’d been captured before, and they’d done some sort of twisted experiments on him. Maybe he wore that mask for a reason other than disguise.

“Cat got your tongue?” he suddenly asked.

Clio started. “Ah, sorry. I just…”

“Can’t imagine why someone would stay?” He sounded empathetic, but she still felt awkward.

“Well,” she murmured. “I’ve heard some reasons why already. But, to be honest…yeah.”

“You probably noticed that there are two kinds of people who end up here.” He sounded a little weary. “Those who…rise to the occasion, and those who don’t. Or can’t.”

Visions of vacant eyes filled her thoughts. Clio shuddered.

“Yeah,” she said after a moment. “I noticed.”

“I wanted to do something about the ones who can’t.”

“Wow, that’s…pretty incredible.” And it was a far cry from Lilah’s reasoning.

Clio snuck a glance at him, struck by a sudden thought. She tried not to raise her hopes too high. “Do you think…?”

She stopped talking as they reached the end of the corridor. He touched the wall again; another panel appeared. “Sorry,” he interrupted gently. “We’ll be out of here in just a sec.”

When the door slid open, he turned to her. He gestured for her to go first, so she did. Slowly.

“Do I think what?” he asked from behind her.

Clio took a breath. “I have a friend,” she tried. “She’s still back in the Gauntlet…the main building part, I mean. And the prowlers–I think they’ve got her. I escaped, and I couldn’t get back in again, but I promised myself that I would help her. I’m just not sure how.”

To her chagrin, Clio’s voice quivered a little. She stared at the floor as she mounted the steps that led out.

“Gotcha. I’ll help you figure it out.”

He sounded so sure, so kind, that Clio had to bite back tears. A weak smile clawed at her lips as she emerged into the fresh air.

A man dressed in gray stood near the exit. She was startled into a scream when he peeled away from the wall. He had a short, dark mohawk and towered over her. The drab uniform did nothing to hide his impressive physique. He looked like he could break her in two.

She backed away and ran right into the arms of her rescuer. “Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “He’s with me.”

“What?!” All her fears and mistrust flared to life again. She jerked out of his hold.

“I got him out of the facility a long time ago. He’s really loyal, though he doesn’t talk much. Some things are harder than others to reverse.” He slid an arm around Clio’s waist and stepped forward. “Sunshine, meet…” he stopped expectantly and waited.

Sunshine? Was he kidding?

“Um…Clio.”

Not a muscle in Sunshine’s face twitched. But her rescuer rolled her name over his tongue, as if testing it.

“Clio,” he hummed. “I’ve been rude. Excuse me.” He tugged off the surgical cap and pulled the mask from his face.

He was gorgeous. His dark, beautifully curved eyes stood out against his pale face. His hair was dyed a soft chestnut–at least, she thought it was dyed, since he seemed to be Asian. But she saw no dark roots along his scalp and his hair looked soft to the touch.

Clio was instantly charmed by his infectious smile. And she’d thought he would look like Frankenstein’s monster.

Oh, God, she thought. He actually has dimples.

“I’m August,” he drawled as he took her hand again. “I hope you’ll like my little piece of the Gauntlet, Clio.”

Continued in Chapter 6.

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