Page 144 of Juniper Unraveling

The other three jog off down the hall like robots, following his command.

No identity. No argument.

If I were alone, I’d fight Albert. I’d find his weak spot and run. It’s possible I could make it out of here twice, if I did, but I don’t think that’s going to happen this time. The crazy shade of my brain still holds hope that I’ll devise a plan and thwart whatever fate holds for me beyond these doors.

I won’t leave Rhys behind. Not if he’s alive.

That’s what Papa meant, when he said it’s better to survive alone. I wouldn’t be here if it was just me. I don’t know where I’d be. Maybe hiding out from marauders. Maybe dead. But I do know one thing: Rhys is here because of me. He wouldn’t have chanced murdering a high-ranking son if he hadn’t been trying to protect me. Ridding me of the nightmares.

No matter what happens, I’m with Rhys until the end.

We enter a dimly-lit room—a surgical suite much like Papa’s, and when Albert steps aside, my stomach sinks again.

I have to will my legs to move forward, for fear I’ll collapse.

Rhys lies strapped to a table, covered in blood. His face has been sliced. Burns mar his chest and arms, and a metal contraption is clamped to his head, which has been shaved with little care. The tape covering his mouth muffles any attempt he might make to protest, but he’s silent, anyway. Not mumbling a single sound.

Beside him, Doctor Ericsson holds up a small scalpel streaked in blood. “Well, look who’s joined us! And who might this be, Albert?”

“Don’t you recognize her, Father? She’s the one who escaped this place. The girl who escaped.” I feel his stare in my periphery, while I keep my eyes anchored on Rhys. “Sounds like something out of that book she used to carry around with her.” His breath feathers my neck as he leans in to me. “I read your file. I know everything about you. Dani.”

I have to tell myself to breathe. It’s not right. My body should know when it needs oxygen, and yet, I stand there, out of air and unable to breathe it in, the urge tugging at my chest.

With his head strapped to a gurney, Six can barely turn to see me, but the slow blink of his eyes tells me it pains him when he catches a glimpse of me.

The others left him behind. Those bastards left him!

If not for me standing here now, he’d be tortured and murdered in this hell alone. For that reason, I’m glad I came back. I grind my teeth, letting the anger keep the tears away, because I sure as hell won’t cry in front of these bastards.

Fuck them.

“Ah, yes. I remember.” Eyes narrowed, Doctor Ericsson’s jaw shifts back and forth, until he blinks himself out of his trance. “I was just telling Albert, this subject’s pain receptors are incredible. He hardly responds to burns, or any sort of physical damage to the epidermal layers, at all. Yet, his antibody titers are high, indicating he’s been in an active state of infection for quite some time. Somehow, he can control the rage. It’s fascinating! I cannot wait to crack his head open and take a peek inside.”

“Father, perhaps her uniform looks familiar?” Albert pinches a piece of the fabric, and as Doctor Ericsson’s gaze falls on me, the smile morphs to something much more sinister. Darker.

“Ivan?” Abandoning his torture, he steps toward me.

A groan diverts my attention to Rhys, whose hands ball into fists, as he lay shaking on the gurney. Like an animal trying to break free.

Doctor Ericsson tosses the scalpel and his blood-stained gloves onto a bedside tray beside a small saw-looking object, and his fingers curl into a fist set to his mouth. “You raise a child with the hopes they’ll go on to do wonderful things for the world. And then …” I catch the whites of his knuckles as he clenches his fist. “And then some ignorant, savage bitch comes along and steals your hopes and dreams for the future.”

“She’s his girlfriend.” Albert juts his chin toward Rhys. “She calls him Six.”

“Interesting.”

An alarm that sounds like an air raid blares through the hallways.

Doctor Ericsson lifts his gaze toward the ceiling. “It seems your friends are running amuck,” he says, head still angled upward.

A female voice blasts through the PA system. “Warning. Code Triage. Biohazard safety breach. Infectious patients. S-block. Lower level. Evacuate immediately. Warning. Code Triage. Biohazard safety breach. Infectious patients. S-block. Lower level. Evacuate immediately.”

Doctor Ericsson rolls his shoulders, and his gaze lands on me once more. “Decades, I’ve worked in this lab,” he says, when the voice quietens. “My life’s work …. I’m certain you’ve no idea what it means to devote so much of your life to something.”

“What’s happening?” I ask, the calm tone of the woman’s voice still vibrating along my spine.

“What’s happening?” He echoes my words, running a hand through his slicked back hair, and shakes his head.

A flash from the corner of my eye gives no warning, before a cold hard sting smarts my cheek. The resounding crack rings in my ears over the alarms and Rhys’s clanging of the metal of the gurney.