Fear Itself

The cell we were loaded into was just as cold, if not colder, than the back of that truck. It was small, it was cramped, and we still were left to sit on the floor. The only difference was that they had taken the handcuffs off. I didn’t know where Kennedy had suddenly found his humanity, but he gave us a few moments together, even if it was just to let the Board deliberate. They had left a considerable number of guards outside of our cell, watching us, making sure we didn’t do anything.

“What are we going to do?” I asked quietly, and Alex just shook his head. He gave me a disheartened laugh.

“What do you mean? There isn’t anything we can do,” he sighed. “Nobody can kiss this and make it better, Tali. It’s not like you fell and scraped your knee. The League’s got us now, and they’re not going to let us go.” Sam was staring at the back wall.

“So you’re just going to accept defeat?” I sputtered incredulously. “Alex, you can’t just sit there and—“

“Tali,” Sam interjected quietly, monotone. “Just give it up.” My head snapped to face him, mouth slightly agape. “There’s no point. We either die in the chair or rot in this cell,” he murmured. He shook his head. Even Alex was staring at him. “I’d rather just get it done with… rather have them shoot me than starve me. At least a bullet’s quick.”

“Don’t say that,” I squeaked out in a cracking voice. “Sam, don’t say that.”

“He’s right, Tali,” Alex emphasize, reaching forward and putting a hand on my knee. “It’s about time you accepted that.”

Easier said than done. I couldn’t accept defeat, couldn’t accept death, couldn’t accept that everything we had done had been in vain. We had come too far to stop now, but the guards were peering in at us, and I knew what Sam was talking about. Escape wasn’t a realistic outcome. We weren’t getting past the guards. They already searched us for weapons, and they had taken both my jacket and the switchblade Avery had given me back in October. I was left in my yoga pants and baggy, grey, long-sleeved shirt. I was freezing, but I had other things to worry about.

We were quiet, and my eyes fell upon my knees. When I glanced back up, Alex had reached out and taken Sam’s hand. They were looking at each other, but they weren’t saying anything. Didn’t need to. Suddenly, I wished Dean was here. I tilted my head away from them and gazed out of the plexiglass, staring at the shiny black boots of the guards. I started thinking, couldn’t keep my mind from wandering. I thought of everything that I had been through in the last few months, the adventure that had started when I first met Avery in the woods. I thought about Alex rolling through my window, and even that memory brought a fond smile to my face. I remembered Avery fixing my feet and showing me the city for the first time, and even though London was nothing like I had imagined, it was okay.

I remembered my training. I remembered feeling real, physical pain for the first time in my life. I remembered the robbery, the riot. I remembered the things I had seen at the masquerade, remembered meeting Chandler, and waltzing with Alex there. I could have laughed when I thought of how I took down that brute at the fight club. I thought about how I ran away from home and experienced my first true taste of freedom… remembered how my father quickly fell from grace, remembered that Avery held me for four hours while I sputtered and sobbed until I somehow managed to fall asleep.

In the same sense, Dean had always been there for me. He literally saved me from being killed by my kidnappers before he even met me, and I would have never guessed that just months later I’d be sleeping in his bed, telling him things I had never told anyone. Tears stung my eyes as I thought back to Christmas, thought about New Year’s, and thought about how we had both promised we would never leave each other. Somehow, I felt like I was slacking on my end of the deal.

A few tears fell from my eyes and over my cheeks when I thought about the things we’d never get to say to each other. I regretted not making an effort to see him over the last week, even though I knew there really wasn’t much we could have done about it, and it wasn’t like we had known this was going to happen. My mind kept flashing back to our last moments together: standing on his roof and falling asleep on the couch. I didn’t want that to be it. It wasn’t how I had imagined it would end; in fact, I never imagined an end for us at all. I chewed my bottom lip and clenched my eyes shut because I couldn’t bear to think that he’d never know how much I really loved him.
I heard the guards outside. I heard muffled chatter. “He wants the girl first?” one asked. Another confirmed and nodded. I huffed out another breathy sob and almost choked on air. I desperately rubbed at my eyes and tried to compose myself. I turned my head to my friends, and both of them were staring at me.

“I don’t know if you heard…” I began, sniffling. “But I’m first pick today,” I laughed half-heartedly. They didn’t find my joke nearly as funny.

“Tali,” Alex addressed me softly. “I know we didn’t… we didn’t get off on the right foot, what with the kidnapping and… my attitude hasn’t exactly been sterling.” He sighed. “I don’t think you know how brave you are. In fact, you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. It has been an honor for me to work with you.” My eyes started welling up again, and he looked at me with a sad, honest smile on his face. “Don’t let that go away out there. You give ‘em hell, and don’t let them take you alive.”

I smiled softly and nodded to him. The plexiglass door began to slide open, and three guards stood waiting for me. “You first, sweetheart,” one grunted. At least he let me stand myself up; I hadn’t expected that. Alex squeezed Sam’s hand. God, I wanted to talk to Dean. I’d have to settle for the next best thing, but I couldn’t say it in front of the guards. “Sam,” I said, and he lifted his eyes to me. “Sam, if by chance… if you make it out of here… tell him I love him.” Sam gave me a slow nod.

“Of course,” he told me quietly. He held tightly to Alex’s hand, and he dropped his face into his knees. His shoulders shook. Alex offered me a gentle smile. I took a few steps toward the guards.

“Bye, bye, boys,” I whispered, fighting off tears as the plexiglass closed behind me. Immediately, two guards grabbed me by the biceps and began to drag me. How rude, I thought. I squirmed a little, and I thought about what Alex told me. It wasn’t like I had much to lose. “Would you please let go of my arms?” I scoffed, thrashing until they lost their grip. “I don’t know where the fuck you think I’m gonna go, and my legs work just fine, thanks.” They grumbled and let me walk myself down the hall, but they grabbed me again just as we came into the main room, where there was a chair, a tray of tools, a power generator, and a projector screen. For a moment, I glanced up. The entire board, plus Dean, was seated up there in a balcony with a glass window. My eyes fell upon my father, who looked down upon me in a cold, narrow stare.

Suddenly filled with rage, I thrashed harder. I heard a crackle sound over speakers like an intercom, and the Commander’s voice rang out. “Will somebody please control her?” he scoffed into the microphone. Gritting my teeth, I swung my leg up and into the crotch of one of the guards. He immediately let go of me, and I looked up to the balcony.

“Maybe you should teach your guards to learn some manners,” I snapped as the one guard who wasn’t currently on the floor tried to subdue me by locking both my arms behind my back. Another rushed over to help him, and they somehow managed to get me in the chair. I made it as difficult as I possibly could for them, that was for sure. Even while they had me seated, I kicked and screamed and thrashed.

“Somebody get the goddamn restraints on this bitch before I have to come down there myself,” Kennedy demanded, and I could hear the scowl in his voice. After a bit, they finally had me. Metal shackles clamped down on my forearms and over my shins. My head was free, for now, but I was finding it hard to move. My stomach churned. In this moment, death became a reality, but the feeling hadn’t set in.

Maybe they were going to kill me, but I wasn’t going to make it easy on them. I took deep breaths and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to forget that I was in the chair at all, but the cold metal brushed against my skin, serving as a constant reminder. “So, you can make this easy, or you can make this hard, rebel,” Kennedy said over the intercom. I still didn’t open my eyes. “I’m giving you the chance now to tell me who you are and what business you have with the terrorist movement.”

I sputtered a laugh, didn’t even open my eyes. “You say that as if you would actually spare me,” I chuckled. “Who know you had such a lovely sense of humor, Commander?”

“Fine,” he murmured. “That was my good deed for the day.” A doctor came through a nearby door, at least I assumed it was a doctor. My eyes opened to man in a lab coat and surgical mask. He wore blue latex gloves. “Commence phase one.”

The doctor began rubbing a wet square of gauze over the top of my right hand. The skin tingled and felt cold, the same feeling that my feet had when Avery was cleaning them, but this time it didn’t feel so comforting. He tossed the thing onto his tray of tools and tied an elastic band tightly around my wrist so the vein in the top of my hand popped out visibly. I wanted to ask what he was doing. Maybe I would have felt better if somebody would have explained to me what was going on, but I didn’t want to look weak. There were my last moments, and though I knew there was no dignity in death, there was no harm in at least trying to have some.

His fingers tugged at the skin on my hand, making the vein protrude more. He had a large needle with a plastic end in his hand. My breath caught in my throat. I pressed my back into the chair, and I wanted to move my arms, but I couldn’t. There was a pinch when the needle pierced my vein, but the feeling disappeared, and the thing was in my hand. He taped it down with white medical tape to stabilize it before he hooked it up to a long, clear tube to the plastic end, and that tube was a attached to a large bag full of clear liquid hung from a stand on wheels. “Phase one complete, Commander,” the doctor said, looking up at the balcony.

“Well, we’ve got some time to kill,” Kennedy mused over the speaker, which apparently he just decided to leave one. There was a pause. “Cassidy, you’re new here. Why don’t you give us some ideas?” He was talking to Dean. I started looking around, trying to see his face, but I couldn’t see much from the angle, perhaps he had pushed his chair back to talk to Kennedy. My heart raced in my chest. Why would Kennedy do this? Not that he knew, but it didn’t make it any better. I heard a voice, a deep voice, Dean’s, probably, but it wasn’t audible. “Don’t tell me, Cassidy,” Kennedy snapped. “Tell the doctor.”

There was another sound over the intercom, a click, maybe a breath, a hint of reluctance. I closed my eyes for a moment, waiting for his voice. It didn’t matter what he said. I trusted that he wasn’t going to hurt me. He promised he wouldn’t. “Shave her head,” Dean spoke into the microphone. Tears leaked out of my shut eyes, and I didn’t know if it was because I was happy to hear his voice in my final hour or if I was dealing with the on-coming loss of my hair. Maybe both.

I didn’t remember seeing a razor on the silver tray of tools nearby, but I also hadn’t been looking very hard. Sometimes, it was easier to not be aware of your fate. The buzzing started, and the doctor pried my back away from the chair. He didn’t have the razors, not right away. He gathered all of my hair into a ponytail at the top of my head. I couldn’t keep myself from sobbing now, and I sobbed even harder when I heard the scissors snip and a huge weight was lifted off of my head. I felt numb when he lifted my head up and took the razor to my scalp. I barely even felt the hair come off at all.

All the while, I felt my body losing feeling. First, it happened in my fingers, leaving my limbs tingling. My toes followed, then my arms and legs. My head felt heavy, like my neck simply couldn’t hold it up anymore. It thudded against the back of the chair, and I felt the cold metal on the skin of head now. My chest felt like it was no longer there. Tiny gasps escaped my mouth, and I could still look around if I focused very hard. I didn’t know what this was. I couldn’t move. “Strap her head in,” Kennedy commanded, and the doctor lifted my head back up. I felt a cold, metal ring clamp around my forehead, keeping my skull in place, facing forward. I kept sitting there, choking out tiny gasps. I needed air. I needed to breathe, but I couldn’t move, and nobody could hear me. I felt like I was screaming, but I was making no noise at all.

Rescue came in the form of a plastic mask the doctor squeezed under the metal vice around my head. I felt the elastic wrap around over my ears. The mask was on my face, and there was air again. My chest was still moving, still breathing, but it was difficult, and it hurt. “Phase two,” Kennedy called out over the speaker, like this was a game, like this was fun. “Well, my nameless friend, since you have chosen not to disclose your identity, I will show you what has become of others like you. Enjoy the show.”

The speaker clicked off, and the room got very dim and very quiet save for the sound of a projector’s cooling fan beside me. The screen hanging on the wall in front of me turned blue as the camera focused. It switched to a man sitting a chair, much like the one I was in now. There was no sound, none, save for the sound me wheezing into the oxygen mask and the sound of the machine attached hissing and pumping, forcing the air out. The man in the chair had the name Albert Wainwright, according to the bottom corner of the screen, and the video was dated November 14, 2040. A ice-pick like instrument was inserted through the man’s left eye socket and whisked back and forth. After the ten seconds ended, I didn’t think that man was alive anymore.

Next was a younger woman, Shelley Stills, whose video was from March 4, 2053. She was standing on a box, and her arms were shackled above her head. According to a timer behind her, she had been standing there for almost a full day. Every couple of minutes, a security guard would prod her with the barrel of a gun to keep her from dozing off into sleep. It looked like she was crying. Tears stung my eyes, and I couldn’t keep them from spilling. I was too weak already. I sat there and watched. More videos like those appeared, lots of them, but it was the last that had me panicking in my chair.

No. I thought. No, no, no, no, no, no. There it was, right in the corner of the screen: Amelia McQueen on October 28, 2039. Tears started pouring from my eyes, and all I could think was “no.” I couldn’t say it, couldn’t even scream, even though I wanted to. My heart raced wildly in my chest, my head ached and I felt nauseas as I watched my mother’s body convulse in the same chair I was in right now, being jolted with a surge of electricity strong enough to leave only her limp and lifeless body seconds later.

The projector then turned off. My breathing staggered. My chest was tighter than before. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, now?” Kennedy asked, and I knew he expected an answer. All I could do was glance in his direction. I couldn’t talk. I could barely breathe. I didn’t know what he wanted me to say. “Answer me,” he snapped, looming over the balcony and glowering down at me.

“No,” I choked out, but it was raspy and weak and ill-sounding.

“So be it,” Kennedy scowled. “Take that mask off. See how she likes life without air.” The doctor pulled it off of my face and let it drop and dangle around my neck. I was okay for a moment, maybe two, but the tightness set in. Soon, all that came out of my mouth was a choking, wheezy gasp for oxygen I didn’t have the strength to pull in on my own. My eyes watered. I gasped again, looking away from the board. I felt like I was shaking, but I couldn’t control it. There was a point at which the doctor put the mask back on, and my whole body slumped back into the chair and happily took the air back in.

“Commence phase three, Doctor,” Kennedy shouted down. Phase three. I didn’t know there was a phase three. How many phases were there? I didn’t have time to ask or to even think to ask because the doctor was standing at the generator, and he had flipped the switch. Suddenly, my entire body stiffened and shook. A charge rushed through my body, and I was sitting there clamoring about in the chair for just a few seconds, but it seemed like forever. When it ended, I felt incredibly drained and took the time to wheeze and try to breathe. “Do you want to answer now?” Kennedy asked.

“No,” I murmured.

“Again, doctor,” the Commander said, unamused and unaffected. He did it again. He did it again, and again, and again. I couldn’t feel it, but my arms and shins were burned raw from the heat of the metal clamps around them, and the fabric of my clothing had melted into the wounds. “Have you changed your mind?” the Commander persisted. I didn’t have words anymore, just a tiny squeak came out of my mouth. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you, rebel,” Kennedy hissed.

“No,” I hissed into my mask.

“Enjoy phase four, then,” Kennedy laughed. “Take her mask off while you set up.”

“No,” I murmured quietly, looking up at the doctor as his hands reached for my mask. “Please,” I begged breathlessly. His hands hesitated when he looked at me, but his eyes drifted back to the Commander, and he slipped the mask off and dropped it around my neck again.

With the press of a button, the chair reclined and straightened out into a slab. I wheezed and gasped as it tilted upward, stopping when it was completely vertical and upright. The bottom edge touched the ground and left me hovering momentarily, at least until it sunk through an opening between floor panels. It stopped when my feet hit the ground, and the slab holding me tilted forward just enough to press the brunt of it’s weight onto my feet. The slightly hunched position made it even more difficult to breathe. All I wanted to do was sleep. I wanted to sleep and make all of this go away. My chest shook. I was sure I was blue. Thankfully, the doctor put the mask back on my face, and I didn’t feel quite so light-headed anymore.

“What is your name?” Kennedy barked into the microphone. I didn’t answer him, just stared straight ahead and focused on my breathing. He waited a few seconds. “Hit her,” he relented, sighing. The doctor came around my front and slammed a plank of barely polished wood across my stomach. The forced made my body shrink up. I felt nauseas, and my chest tightened again. Air was coming anymore, even with the mask, so I gasped and choked and sputter, and my eyes watered until the air made it’s way down my throat again.

“What is your name?” Kennedy repeated, sneering. I still didn’t answer, so they kept hitting me. It happened again and again and again, and I thought I would throw up, but my muscles were too weak to even muster vomit, so I stood there and took it, couldn’t even call it standing. I was limp and practically dead.

I tried to think of anything but what was happening. I used to do that at home all the time. I tried to think of the stories that kept me company as a child. I thought of the fantastic adventures I went on in the afternoon and the heroes that stayed with me in my mind until I fell asleep, but standing there, I couldn’t find them. I couldn’t grasp them, but I could hear Dean’s voice in my head. Everything he ever said to me, and somehow, that was so comforting that I cried. I started crying, started sobbing, audibly sobbing, and I didn’t even know that I could. They asked questions, but I just sobbed. They hit me, and I just sobbed.

I wanted Dean. I knew he was up there. I knew he was watching. He promised he would never hurt me, and part of me was so angry that he was still sitting up there, watching, just like my father was: watching as Kennedy and his doctor beat the life clear out of me. A larger part of me understood. Dean needed to keep the Brotherhood going. He was the only leader or high-ranking member not currently being tortured or locked up in a cell. He still had a chance, and if he could get out of here and regroup with the members who had gotten out safely and without capture, then there was still hope for the world, and who was I to be so selfish and deprive billions of people a shot at a decent future?

My eyes clenched shut and poured tears across my face. I tried to slow down and breathe, but I just kept sobbing. “Final phase,” Kennedy announced over the speaker, and the metal clamp let go of me. My neck gave out, and my head immediately fell forward, but I tried with all my might to lift it. For just a moment, one fleeting moment, my eyes met Dean’s. It was the best I could do at a goodbye.

Just a quickly, a black trash bag was slung over my head, but it was left loose. I heard the clicking of a gun beside my head. Kennedy continued questioning, but I didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. He asked questions I didn’t hear, so I couldn’t answer, and with every question I couldn’t respond to, the doctor fired the gun, but nothing ever hit me. Didn’t matter. With every bullet, I shook and shrieked, terrified that he was going to shoot me. My breathing was strained and heavier, and I couldn’t keep my screams in.

Kennedy said something else. I didn’t hear. The doctor grabbed the loose ends of the trash bag and held them tight, enclosing my head completely within in. Then, there was a loud thud, and there was another bang. I shrieked out of instinct, but somebody was near me now.

“You’re okay now, Princess,” they croaked.

“Mumbles?” I squeaked, weak and weary as he finally pulled the bag off my head.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “It’s me.” He quickly but carefully removed that dreadful needle out of my hand, the one that caused all the stiffness and all the numbness.

“Mumbles, where’s my dad?” I rasped, blinking tears out my eyes.

“Don’t worry about ‘im,” Avery grumbles as he pried open the metal clasps around my legs, careful not to hit the burns. He moved up to my arms. “He ain’t worth it, Princess.”

“Mumbles, I want my dad,” I cried into my mask. “I just want my dad.”

“Sorry,” he grumbled as he got the last clamp off of me. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t do nothin’ ‘bout that.” He caught me when inevitably collapsed onto him, still sobbing.

“Why didn’t he help me?” I sobbed. I tried to cling to him, but I couldn’t. I still couldn’t feel my body. Avery hand me slung over his shoulder, securing me in his arm while his hand grabbed the small, portable machine that was currently keeping me breathing.

“Sh, Princess,” he hushed me. “We’re gettin’ you outta ‘ere, that’s all that matters.”

I sputtered and cried into his shoulder, even as he rushed me out of the building and out to safety.