Page 57 of Juniper Unraveling

“Please. I … I just got lost, is all.”

“I’ll take you back after.” The promise in his voice is the only measure of comfort that compels me to do as he says. We wade through the darkness, and I shine my light on objects that seem unfamiliar to me. Relief washes over me when we finally reach a staircase, and I follow him up flight after flight, until we reach a door with a large red S stamped to the panel.

S block.

“Sir, I’m actually from cell block B.” I glance back down toward the stairwell, convincing myself to run and sort the mess out with Doctor Falkenrath tomorrow. Something tells me Ericsson’s son would sort it out for me, though.

“This will only take a minute.” He pushes through the door that opens to yet another dark corridor. “My apologies for not introducing myself,” he says over his shoulder. “I’m Ivan.”

“I’m Dann … Daniel.”

“I know. I remember you from last week. In my father’s office.”

The memory sinks to the pit of my stomach, and I have to swallow back the lingering scent of the doctor’s manhood still clinging to my nose. Those thoughts are quickly tamped down by the droning sounds that reach my ears, and fear needles my muscles.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Why were you in my father’s study that day?”

I wish he’d stop asking me about that day—something I’ve wanted nothing more than to forget. “He … wanted to show me his laboratory. I’m an assistant for Doctor Falkenrath.”

Ivan chuckles and shakes his head. “And what makes you special enough to be anyone’s assistant?”

“I can read. And write.”

He stares down at me, shrinking me. “Well, that is special. But you’ll never be an assistant. You’re a savage. A slave.”

I open my mouth to slap him with a snarky comeback, and he swings open the door behind him.

The room opens to something that looks like an auditorium, like the old abandoned theater where the kids in the hive would sometimes play. Chairs are set up in a row, and six older boys, perhaps Ivan’s age, sit restrained in them, their hands strapped down to the arms, heads secured to the high backs of the seats. Multi-colored wires stem from their shaved heads, attached to white patches taped to their skin, and at the other end they’re plugged into a black box on the outside of the chair. Like some kind of monitor. More wires hang out of the band of their pants, and those are attached to a separate box that leaves me questioning its purpose.

“These are S block subjects,” Ivan says beside me. “Essentially, they are savages who carry the Alpha gene. Ragers, in a sense, but they haven’t yet turned. Still boys, as you can see. They seem to control their infection, unless provoked.”

A wooden box, similar to the confessionals used in church, stands off to the side, in front of them, but instead of being completely enclosed, there’s a window. Through the window, two men stand naked, one slamming his hips into the other from behind, and the boys in the chairs watch them. I turn my head to keep from looking at the men in the booth, squinting my eyes for some reprieve, before I open them again. The knuckles of the boy closest to me turn white as he clutches the arm of the chair, his head propped by metal guards strapped across his forehead to keep him facing the men in front of him. His eyes skate to mine, chin trembling, spilling drool, while he struggles to direct his attention away. A terrifying screech echoes inside the room, as his eyes squint, and his whole body convulses in the chair.

Hands grip my head and urge my attention back to the men on stage.

“As with all Ragers, sexual aggression is a common trait among the Alphas. Their minds are somewhat primitive, in that they seek to mate. Male. Female. It doesn’t matter, the little faggots.” Releasing me, he tips his head toward the boy nearest to us. “Is it any coincidence that faggot rhymes with maggot? Disgusting insects that infest and feed on shit?” Hands clasped behind his back, he paces. “They’re driven by pleasure and pain. The docs in S block seek to modify their behaviors. So, every time they become aroused, they receive a very painful shock. After all, we wouldn’t want them distracted out there in the Deadlands. Trying to fuck the very thing they should be killing.”

“Why are you showing me this?”

“You like boys, don’t you? Are you not turned on by watching two men fuck each other?”

I shake my head, the anger welling inside of me spurring tears in my eyes.

“Then, why would you seek out my father for sex?”

“I didn’t seek him out. I told you. He invited me to his lab.”

“My father is a respected man. An honest man. A God-fearing man. He doesn’t need some faggot twink like you destroying everything he’s built.”

“I want nothing to do with him. I didn’t ask to be there that day. He came on to me!”

“You’re a liar!” He juts his chin toward the box. “If you like men so much, maybe you can be of use. Get undressed.”

I shake my head, tears streaming down my face. “Please.”

Pulling a gun from his holster, he points it square at my head. “Remove your clothes. Now.”