Extracted

Ezra looked up as I walked into the lunchroom. I'm sure he wasn't the only one, but he was the one I was looking for. As soon as I was pushed through the door by one of the guards - I didn't bother trying to figure out which one it'd been - I searched for his crazy hair in the crowd. The fact that it had been buzzed down didn't stop me from zeroing in on him almost immediately.

His eyes went wide as he nearly stood from his seat, but with a small shake of my head, the inches of difference he'd made between himself and the table dissipated as he plopped back down. His hand clenched around the piece of bread in his hand, crumbs falling from his fist as he watched the guard come around me to cut the bindings on my wrists.

As soon as the bindings gave way, my arms dropped to my side and the guard moved around me to head back to the infirmary.

I stood there for a moment, just letting myself get used to the lighting in the lunchroom. Even the infirmary wasn't as bright - the lights were only on over the beds that had recruits in them so as to save energy. It was nearly blinding in here because of it.

I tore my gaze away from Ezra, content in knowing that he wasn't hurt or gone, and let myself look over the room. I hadn't been outside of the infirmary in nearly three months; id nearly forgotten what it looked like elsewhere in the facility.

It was still dull, with dark, muted colors. Even the blood on the walls from various fist fights seemed bored to still be there. Nearly everything had stayed the same. But it was new, in a way.

Three new faces sat at the Crypt table, which meant Clark had sent his men on another extraction. Three to replace the ones moving into Foxtrot. The kids were all seven, as everyone who sat at the table at one point or another.

And like everyone else in the room, they were watching me.

So, they knew.

Of course they knew. Nothing happens in the dungeon without everyone finding out. Subconsciously, I reached up with my left hand to rub at my right shoulder. The knife was gone, but the pain persisted whenever I thought about it.

Their eyes followed the path of my hand, even as I dropped it back to my side and slowly took another step into the lunchroom. They watched me, tracked my every movement as I made my way to the Echo tables. I could feel their eyes burning into me from every direction, but I held my head high, forced a sneer to my mouth and continued forward.

I'd been given my lunch in the infirmary, so I wasn't permitted to get more food. I figured I was only sent to the lunch room instead of my room because Clark wanted to pin the final nail in my punishment coffin.

As if jabbing a knife through my shoulder weren't enough.

Taking the seat across from Ezra, I stretched my leg over the bench and sat, letting my gaze fall to the table.

And still, they watched me. They weren't even eating anymore. The room had gone so silent, despite the incessant buzzing of the generators which had become white noise to us all.

I wanted to scream at them, but I didn't have it in me. Even I had, though, I would have been sent straight back to the dungeon. An outburst would only be another sign of my defiance. And the last thing I needed was Clark feeling as if another punishment was necessary. The last had been all I needed.

Solitary confinement in the infirmary wasn't exactly a walk in the park. The Loyals weren't the kindest physical therapists, and not having Ezra to vent to made it all that much harder.

Something tapped at my ankle and I looked up. Ezra raised an eyebrow at me. I offered a subtle shake of my head in response.

He pursed his lips. Looked up. And smirked.

Fuck.

"So, Mathison the Great has finally returned," he bellowed, ensuring the entirety of the room was watching us. Including the guards.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to respond. He was going to get me sent right back to the Dungeon.

"Tell me, Mathison, how far did you get this time? Two feet out the bedroom door?"

The reason I’d been sent to the Dungeon was no secret, either. I'd tried to escape. Again. Clarks men had forced me to kill a pregnant woman the day before, and as they had me drag her lifeless body to the garbage room, I had decided it was time to try again.

But as I had every time before, I failed. I'd made it to the exit this time, though. But Clark somehow knew, and had been waiting for me on the other side of the door.

The fact that I started crying as soon as I saw him didn't help my case when we got to the dungeon. Crying was expressly forbidden. As was every sign of weakness.

The room was laughing at me, now.

Still I kept my mouth shut. If I took the bait, I'd end up right where I came from. Ezra knew that.

"Come on, Mathison. Where's the spirit Clarks always praising you for?"

Dead.

I glared at him. He just widened his eyes slightly and glanced behind me before focusing back in on me. "Are you finally a good little solider, then? Good. Maybe then I can finally stop babysitting your ass."

One of the Loyals was watching us. He was standing far behind Ezra, eyes narrowed at me, like he was daring me to respond. I looked down.

Eye contact was a sign of defiance.

Ezra tapped my ankle with his foot again. I kept my eyes locked in on the table. He tapped again, harder this time. Sighing, I lifted my head just enough to look at him through my bangs. My hair was going to have to be cut soon enough.

He raised his eyebrows again, slightly higher. He was clearly up to something, but I had no idea was it was, and quite frankly – I didn’t care. I just wanted to get through this so I could go to the room for a final day of resting before I was expected to return to training. They weren’t going to go easy on me once I went back to combat training; I need to convince myself to work through the pain. I didn’t want to be alone, but, I needed to be.

Solitary confinement is a hell of a punishment.

As he opened his mouth to say something, the loyal behind him stepped forward. "That's enough. Save it for combat, Kent. You're all dismissed - head to your designated training." He moved closer to us as everyone else finally looked away and stood from their seats. "Kent, you're going to escort Mathison to housing."

Ezra furrowed his brow and turned towards him, "Aren't I supposed to be fighting Jenits today?"

The Loyal nodded. "You will. After you escort Mathison to your room. If he says or does anything out of line," he rolled his eyes towards me with a small twitch of his lips, "Let me know. The infirmary will be more than happy to intake him again." He shrugged then, "Though I doubt you'll have any problems, it's important to keep in mind."

Ezra frowned, muscles in his cheeks flexing as he clenched his jaw. "Yes, sir." Turning back towards me, he grabbed at my left shoulder and pulled me up from the bench. "Come on," he growled as he all but dragged me out of the lunch room.

I didn't say anything as walked away, and neither did Ezra. At least, not until we turned a corner and he let go of my shirt. "What the fuck, Channing?" He hissed as soon as we were out of sight of the Loyals.

I glanced at him before looking down and shrugging. "Don't want to go back. Taking your bait would have been an immediate send back."

He scoffed, "Yeah, and not taking it? Every asshole in that room is going to target you tomorrow when you get back to combat." Shaking his head, he sighed. "I'd imagine being challenged half a dozen times won't be good for the arm."

He wasn't wrong.

"Shoulder."

He furrowed his brow and turned towards me, stopping. "Shoulder? What the fuck does that mean?"

So, maybe they didn't know after all.

I turned towards the hall, motioning for him to keep moving with a tip of my chin. As he started walking again, I asked, "What did you hear happened to me in the Dungeon?"

"Other than the fact that you're the first fourteen year old to supposedly get sent to the dark? First person at all in six years?"

The dark was the part of the Dungeon only Clark and the Loyals were permitted entrance to. The recruits that were trusted enough to be guards weren't even allowed in. There'd been theories about it for a while, but most of the recruits believed it to be a myth created by the kids that had been here longer to scare the new kids. Supposedly it was the place Clark took only the most disobedient. The kids he couldn't reformat. Because he couldn't kill us, he had to torture us to the point of near death. Nobody else was allowed in because seeing what Clark was capable of could potentially stir up emotions and his army could potentially turn on him.

But it was a myth.

Except. It was real.

"That's true."

He stopped again and stared at the back of my head. "Channing -,"

"Keep moving, Ezra."

Sighing again he started walking again, quickening his steps to catch up with me. "You can't be serious. The dark is real?"

I nodded. "He didn't call it the dark. I think that's just what we call it to give it a name. It was a cell, at the back of the dungeon." Reaching up, I ran a shaking hand through my hair. "There was chains. He used them to hold me up by my wrists."

Ezra slowed a bit but continued just slightly behind me. "Then what?" He asked, voice softer than before, almost as if he were actually afraid he was going to frighten me.

Hed never treated me like I was fragile before.

"He came in, told me what all I was guilty of. I continued being disobedient and stubborn. Told him if he wanted me to stop, he'd have to kill me. He, of course, laughed." I looked down at my feet as we turned another corner, "Then he took something from Ari and went behind me. I asked if he was going to whip me or skin me again."

As the thought of him skinning me flashed through my head I flinched and rubbed at my thigh where it suddenly itched.

"But he didn't do either of those things."

Of course he didn't. Clark didn't believe in punishing someone the same way twice. No, he liked to get creative.

"No," I muttered needlessly. "He asked me if it was worth it. As soon as I opened my mouth to say yes, he stabbed me. Right through the shoulder."

"That explains the scream."

This time, it was me who stopped. He nearly crashed into me as I turned to face him. "You heard me scream?"

He nodded. "We all woke up to your screaming."

Typically, whatever happened in the Dungeon stayed in the Dungeon – save for the gossip and rumors. We’d never actually heard the fallout of a Dungeon visit. Ever. “How’s that possible?” Considering I was in the furthest most area, it seemed impossible.

Shrugging, he moved around me and grabbed my elbow gently, “Come on,” He murmured. “And I don’t know. Maybe he left the door open or something. It’s all anyone talked about for a week.” He glanced at me, “Then nobody talked about it again. But you were gone for two months, so new rumors started up.”

I frowned. “Like what?”

“They said you were dead.”

“The Loyals?”

He shook his head as we finally entered the area of the Facility that held the different housing blocks. As we passed by Alpha block, he didn’t speak. We both knew better than to in this area. Alpha block possessed Clark’s favorites – the most likely to get outer guard duty. To get into Alpha they had to do everything in their power to get on Clark’s good side – which included ratting out anyone who appeared to be doing something out of line.

Ezra and I getting along? Definitely something they’d have taken to Clark in a heartbeat. Considering we pretended to hate one another most of the time.

“No,” He finally answered as we past Alpha and moved into Delta. Delta’s were currently in class; the area was empty. “One of the Bravos that recently got promoted to guard duty. He said he went to the infirmary and you weren’t there. Said you had to be dead.” He turned the corner and stopped. “Channing,” He said, looking at me carefully. “I thought you were dead. Right up until you walked into the lunchroom today.”

I pat him on the shoulder, not knowing what else to do. “Well. Unfortunately, that’s one more wish that wasn’t granted.”

He shrugged my hand away and glared at me. “Fuck you, man,” He growled, turning around and walking away. “It’s my job to protect you, and then you go and break out while Jeff and I were sleeping and then next thing I know I’m waking up to screaming and you’re not in your cot.” He whipped around and pointed a finger at me. “You didn’t even tell me you were trying to escape again.”

“Plausible deniability. I figured they’d turn to you to see what all you knew.”

He stalked back towards me, shoved me backwards against the wall and pointed a finger at me. “Yeah. But much like you – I pass the fucking lying test with flying colors. Damn it, Channing.” He turned back around, ran a hand across the top of his blunted curls. “You’re fourteen,” He murmured, “You can still get on Clark’s good side, man. It’s not too late.”

“I don’t want to get on his good side.”

And I didn’t. I’d told myself a long time ago that I would get out of this place or die trying. Clark could attempt to reformat me a thousand and ten times and would fail every time. The trick to surviving was staying off his radar long enough that I could work together a new plan, and act without having everyone in the Facility watching me.

I hadn’t waited long enough last time.

I wasn’t going to make the same mistake this time.

His shoulders slumped. “Why are you so fucking stupid?” He asked, turning back to me. All the fight had left him, and he just stared at me with wary eyes.

I tilted my head. “Why do you care?”

It was a redundant question. I already knew the answer.

His eyebrows went way up high. “Are you kidding me, Channing?” He shook his head with a hollow laugh as his hand went back through his hair. “Please tell me you’re kidding.” When I didn’t respond, he sighed and walked up to me and leaned in close. “You,” He said softly, poking me in the chest, “Are my brother. I protect you. Something happens to you, I fucking care. Just like when something happens to me, you care.”

“I’m not your brother, Ezra.” I lifted up my arm and grabbed his so I could place them side by side. “The color of our skin? Look at it. We’re not brothers.” His was much darker than mine. Dark brown where mine was light. My olive to his chocolate.

He snatched his arm away and narrowed his eyes. “You’re grasping at straws. You know damn well that nobody in here has blood family, Channing. We get to choose who our family is – no matter who the fuck thinks we each have nobody. You have been my brother for seven years. You’re the only person here I trust.”

We were lucky we even knew what the word trust meant.

“You’ve hated me since the day we met.”

“You were a little shit when we first met. You still are,” He muttered, “But you’re my brother. You’re my brother and it’s my job to protect you. But I can’t. Not when you go off and try to get yourself killed.”

I looked down. I didn’t know what to say to him. He knew that I felt the same. We were brothers. We’d sworn to each other, years ago when it was just us in our room, that we would always have each others backs; even when we couldn’t outwardly show it. My enemies were his, just as his were mine.

Instead of responding to him, I did what I did best.

I changed the subject. “He left the knife in my shoulder for three days,” I murmured, watching as the edges of my bangs swayed with my breath. “He came in four times a day to ensure it didn’t heal around the knife and get infected. He moved it around a bit. Pulled it out a little and shoved it right back in.” I glanced up at him. “Twice he pulled it all the way out and then almost immediately it was right back where it’d been before he touched it. I was chained the entire time with my arms above my head holding me just a couple inches off the ground.”

My hand went back to my shoulder as I rubbed at it gently.

“Fuck,” He whispered.

“I’m not telling you so you’ll feel bad for me,” I said. “I’m telling you so you can see why I’m never going to change, Ezra. He can hurt me. He can torture me. He can put a target on my back – but he will never, ever, control me. I can fake it, I can. And I will. But I’m not one of them. I refuse to be one of them. If you expect me to stop trying to escape,” I shrugged, side stepping him so I could continue in the direction of Echo block, “You should find a new brother.”

“I don’t expect you to change,” he said from behind me. “You’re Channing fucking Mathison. And I’m Ezra goddamn Kent. You’re the one who tries to escape and I’m the one,” He walked up to me, placing a hand on my shoulder and whispering, “I’m the one who pulls the trigger when you can’t. I protect you,” He pulled away and moved to my side, “So fucking let me.”

I looked at my feet as we walked. “I was worried they thought you helped me. The entire time in the infirmary.”

“They did. But considering Jeff and I were both knocked out until you woke up the entire building,” He shrugged, “It was kind of obvious I had nothing to do with it.”

“Good. That’s . . . good.”

He nodded with a laugh. “For once, having Jeff in the same room was actually beneficial to us. Well, to me. It didn’t really do anything for you.”

I looked up at him as we finally made it to Echo block. “You know Clark likes to punish people he can put even the slightest amount of blame on. You guys weren’t able to stop me, so I thought,” I paused, shrugging, “You know.”

He shook his head and shoved me lightly, “Come on, Channing. You need to stop worrying about me. I can take care of myself.”

“You worry about me.”

He raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “Yeah, well, I’m not on Clarks shit list.”

“Keep worrying about me and you will be.”

“You’re such a pessimist.” He rolled his eyes. “Unlike you, kid, I’m on the track to being a guard. If I hadn’t been assigned to you, I’d already be a guard.”

I scoffed. That wasn’t likely. Ezra got along with exactly one person - and it was me. He constantly mocked the guards for the way they blindly followed Clark as if he were their god or messiah. Pretending to look up to Clark was one thing - an act of survival - but actually looking up to him and believing every word that fell from his mouth was something else entirely.

We thought it was a mental break of the highest degree. One complete snap that had them all rolling over the edge onto their back, in the hopes that he’d rub their belly or tell them, “Good boy!”

“What?” He asked, glaring down at me, “You don’t think I could be a guard?”

“You hate them.”

He nodded with a slight shrug. “That I do. That. I do. But being a guard means fresh air every now and again. You’ve only been here for seven years, Chan, you don’t know what it’s like.” He smirked. “I’ve been here ten years. A little guard duty could do me good.” Leaning in close to me, he added in a whisper, “Right place, right time? Bullet to a certain leaders brain. That’d do me pretty good, too.”

“Saying shit like that is what will get you sent to the dungeon, Ezra.” I muttered, pulling away from him so I could pull open our rooms door. “And trust me when I say you don’t want to get sent to the dungeon.”

“You are the expert on all things dungeon related. How many times is it now?” He asked, following me through the door. “Twelve?”

I shook my head as I looked around the room with narrowed eyes.

Literally nothing in the room had changed. Not even my cot had been made. My clothes were still strewn across the flimsy mattress from where I’d thrown them the night of my attempted escape. My sweater was hanging halfway off the frame, touching the concrete of the floor. Ezra and Jeff’s bed were perfect - not a single string out of place. Just how it was required.

I made my way over to the bunks and leaned down to pick up my sweater. “Sixteen,” I answered him absently, as i let the fabric roll through my fingers. Still rough, overworn. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be wearing it any time soon. I could lift my arms, but forcing them into the sweater? I wasn’t going to put myself through that just so I could take it off later during combat. I could suffer through the cold of the Facility with ease.

With how cold it always was, I could’ve sworn I’d been raised in Alaska or the Alps - or somewhere even colder.

“I need to keep better track.”

“My beds the same,” I murmured, turning to him.

He nodded slowly. “Yet another reason we thought you were dead. I started to make it the week after but the guards told me not to bother.” He shrugged, “I guess they just wanted you to do it when you got back.”

“Testing me.”

“Not everything is a test, Channing.”

I scoffed again, turning back to the bed as I let the sweater fall to the ground. “They want to make sure I’m actually reformatted. He’s going to be watching me for a while.”

He watched me for a moment as I sat down on the edge of my cot. Tilting his head, he said, “You’re afraid to go back.” It wasn’t a question, because he knew me. He could read me.

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t say afraid. Wary would be a good word, though.” I looked up at him with a grin.

He just shook his head with a frown. “Don’t play it off.” Taking a step closer to me, he added, “Not with me.”

Looking down, I pulled my lip into my mouth and chewed on it. I knew better than to argue with him. About this, at least. After all, he’d been the one to teach me how to hide my emotions. To pretend I wasn’t afraid. He knew my poker face better than anyone else.

There was a stain on the floor, next to where my feet were resting. It’d been there since before we’d even been alive, yet somehow seemed to get uglier with age. I poked at it with the tip of my shoe. We knew what it was, but over the years, we came up with different stories as to what it could be. Anything less gruesome than the truth was good enough for us.

Perhaps oil from a car - maybe the Facility had once been a machanics shop. We didn’t let the fact that it was underground stop us from getting creative with it.

An alien, Ezra had suggested when I was younger, had had children on our very room’s floor. The stain was but the aftermath of the birthing. It was gross, but in comparison to what the stain really was . . .

“Channing.”

I looked up with a small shake of my head. “Ezra.”

He sighed.

I turned my gaze back to the stain.

When I was ten, Clark brought in a case of Cherries. He shared them with all of us, rewarding us for our good behavior. We were so enamored with them, Ezra and I theorized the stain had to be from a cherry tree. He said the tree had to have been planted in a pot, and then placed in our room. The cherries fell, and over time they stained the concrete. The cherries had been so good, and we were all so gleeful for that single day, that he and I chose to accept it as fact.

“I have to go back,” Ezra finally murmured. “They’re probably wondering what’s taking so long.”

I nodded. “Kick some ass for me.” I looked up at him with a half smile. “A lot of ass.”

He smirked. “Like I don’t always?”

I rolled my eyes. “Tomorrow I’m going to deflate your big head a bit.”

Scoffing, he turned around to leave, “I’d like to see you try.” With a wave in my direction, he walked out the door and locked it behind him.

I stared after the door for a moment before looking back down at the stain.

It wasn’t a cherry stain. And I wasn’t really afraid.

Rubbing at the stain with the sole of my shoe, I narrowed my eyes. I wasnt going to be like the kid that died in this room, and that was left here to rot. I wasn’t going to be a stain in this building. Let alone this room.

Much like the stain was patient, growing uglier and darker with age, I could, too, be patient. I could wait. I could play the good soldier.

But, unlike the kid that stained the concrete, I was going to get out of The Facility.

And then, I was going to make Clark Wonley suffer.