CHAPTER ELEVEN

EXPERIMENT 748 GROWLS TO himself in annoyance as he paces the few feet of his cell. His torso and back still sting from the lashings, his shoulder stills burns from the branding, and his throat still aches from what feels like his umpteenth operation. He won't stay here a second longer; he refuses. While there's a remaining piece of his sanity, he will abandon this damned place and be free.

But that remaining piece of sanity is slowly fading.

His vision blurs in and out, his mouth waters with the faintest beat of a heart passing by his cell, his fingers twitch with the desperation to rip something apart, his stomach knots with hunger. But he will not eat what his mind is screaming at him too; he refuses.

He begins to run his hands along the bricks, feeling for a draft or a crack or something to use to his advantage. He'll take down every single brick holding this building together if he must. He should've snagged the opportunity to escape again yesterday when he was thrown in the back of a truck. He could've easily broken out of the chains and disappeared before the drivers even knew something was wrong. He could kick himself for not listening to his instincts.

Now he's in another cell that seems more established than the last. There's also more hearts here. They give him a headache if he listens too long, so many clashing together discordantly. But oh, how they make his stomach ache. If he could just get one to step foot inside his cell, then he--

No.

He refuses.

He claws at his hair to occupy his fidgeting fingers while he steady skims the wall with his other hand. Wait. What is that? He backs up, retracing his hand around the area. There. A crack he had nearly passed from being so distracted. It's far too small for his fingers to fit in, but that doesn't stop him from scraping at it until his fingertips bleed. He keeps going, ignoring the blood though even his own makes him salivate.

He breaks off a corner of the brick.

Excited now, he shoves two fingers into the new hole and pulls, easily popping the brick out of the wall. He starts punching all the bricks around the space, knowing the noise is drawing attention but hoping he'll be too quick for them. By the time they get here, they'll be staring at an empty cell.

He has to hoist himself up since the open area is just at height with his shoulders, but the moment he crawls out of the space, he pushes to his feet and starts running. But he skids to a stop just as quickly.

This can't be happening.

Confused, he stumbles while trying to look around. What he thought was the outdoors turns out to be fake grass and bright lights. In front of him is a dead end. To the left is a wall. To the right is another wall--no, it's glass. He recognizes it from his initial training over two years ago where people with clipboards and white coats would watch him and jot things down. He hadn't bothered with the glass then, but he also hadn't been infuriated like he is now.

They stole everything from him, and now they're stealing his hope? Manipulating him into relief only to shatter the illusion moments after. They won't get away with this.

Not anymore.

It's stupid, but he does it anyways: he runs for the glass. He knows it won't break on the first try. It's made to withstand attacks from monsters like him. He wants them to think that they're perfectly safe behind this one-sided mirror, but then he'll give them the scare of their life. He will break this glass even if it means breaking some of his own bones to do so.

He bangs on his reflection, his eyes dark and menacing. He bangs again, harder this time to make the people inside squirm. He stands still for a moment or two, a false sense of serenity for those on the other side. Let them see how he felt when he thought safety was just in his reach. Let them think they're safe.

Then he brings his fist down with all his might, giving into the monster long enough to tap into the power he doesn't want. The glass cracks. He doesn't waste time with his next punch, not wanting anyone to have time to get away. He will make all of them feel his agony. They want to know how ruthless he is? They'll personally get to see.

With the fourth punch, the long panel of glass shatters, piercing his ears but he could care less. As he wanted, the door is jammed from frightened workers fighting to leave first. People are being trampled as scream after scream erupts, and 748 can't stifle his satisfied smile. The heartbeats of the traumatized are a fast-paced song in his head as his mouth waters and his stomach knots and his fingers twitch.

He jumps down into the room, catching a man by the collar of his shirt. He digs his nails into the man's neck, drawing blood that 748 can't resist. The taste is sweet and coats his tongue, causing a groan of euphoria to flee his red-stained lips. He tosses the man to the side without completely finishing him, wanting to sample as many delicacies as he can before they all manage to escape.

He's unstoppable now.

He grabs a woman's sleeve, relishing in the terror that crosses her face. He presses his nail into her neck, watching the drop of blood slide down her neck tantalizingly. He opens his mouth but she opens hers at the same time.

"Please," she croaks, water streaming down her cheeks. "If there's anyone left in you at all, please spare my life. My son needs me. He's only six and he's ill--"

Experiment 748 growls yet he can't manage to lean in closer.

The woman's eyes flicker with faith. "Yes, see, there's someone left in you after all. Please let me live, for my son's sake."

A tiny sliver of sanity creeps into 748's brain and makes him stumble backwards, his grip still on the woman's coat. He stares at her, then scans the room. People are still scrambling to leave, except one man laying dead on shattered glass, blood pooling around his body. That's when 748 tastes it on his teeth, on his lips, and his heart completely sinks. He looks to the woman with wide eyes just as a siren begins to blare.

The woman stares back, then she stuns him as she grabs his hand. "I'll get you out of here. That's what you want, isn't it?"

He manages to nod.

"Follow me."

He has no choice but to do so, clinging to that sliver of sanity as tight as he can.

He doesn't quite trust her, though. After all, she could very easily be leading him into another trap. He keeps his ears perked, his eyes observant, his muscles tense. He's no fool in these situations. She's probably only "helping" him so he'll spare her life, but if she's true to her word and gets him out of here, he'll truly be indebted to her.

She runs to the end of the hall and yanks open a door, revealing a stairwell. He's wary to step into it first, and she notices, unphased to enter first. She starts up the stairs and he follows, listening to the blaring siren and the chaos all around them. His ears ache with how in-tune he is, but he does his best to ignore the dull throb. He won't let his guard drop for a single second. He absolutely refuses.

It seems like the woman is taking random turns and doorways, but somehow they end up bursting through the exit into the outdoors. For real, this time. His chest constricts with the smell of nature, his stomach knotting. So many scents from all around him, so many sounds. His brain swells with it all, practically exploding.

Then the woman stops abruptly, right in the middle of the lawn in plain sight. "Let's make a deal," she says, obviously having been waiting until they were nearly caught so he could not refuse. "I'll get you to safety if you get my son and I to safety. Simple enough, and you can consider it making us even."

She has a lot of nerve, 748 thinks. How easy it would be to leave her. He can make it out on his own now that he's out of that damned maze they call a building. He doesn't need her anymore.

But her son does, and while 748 is still clutching sanity, that's enough to convince him to nod in agreement.

She actually grins, releasing a breath as if she'd been expecting refusal. She quickly snaps back to reality, though, and whirls around to keep running. She's not as fast as 748, and he doesn't want to slow down just to keep up with her. Especially since there's audible footsteps marching towards the exit. The door they just emerged from slams open again, and 748 doesn't think twice before grabbing the woman's wrist, slinging her onto his back. She wraps her arms around his neck without needing to be prompted, keeping her head down on his shoulder.

"They've got tranquilizers," she tells him, voice strained with panic.

He already knows that. He hears their guns click, then a tranquilizer dart being released as someone pulls the trigger. The guns are meant to be silent, but lucky for 748, silence doesn't exist for him anymore. He zig-zags his path accordingly to their darts, each narrowingly missing either of their bodies. The woman is shrieking, squeezing 748's neck so tightly it's hard for him to breathe. He growls, enough of a hint for her to loosen her grip, and she does so immediately.

"Sorry," she murmurs, though her arms tense yet again.

It's a bit difficult maneuvering with a person clinging to you like a monkey, but it's not impossible. He even manages to climb the tall chain-linked fence enclosing the building and jump onto the other side. The woman slips, but with her death grip and 748's reflexes, she doesn't fall completely.

Now running towards wilderness--which seems to be the only thing surrounding the property--he slows his pace to save his energy. The staff has long since ran out of darts, and none of them appear brave enough to chase after him through a forest with the sky steadily growing darker. He allows himself a small smile of victory, but there's still the matter of his wits escaping him and this woman that's now a liability.

He sets her down once he feels they're a fair distance away. She thanks him quietly, a sudden flush to her cheeks rising as she shifts awkwardly from foot to foot. He doesn't pay attention for long, already configuring the next step. Where should he go? He has nowhere. He can't trust anyone--

Except...

Except... what's her name? It's on the tip of his tongue, he swears it. He pulls at his hair in frustration, stressing his memory. He knows her. He can picture her face. His stomach feels strange with the image of her. He keeps his eyes closed so her face doesn't fade. It calms him down. He searches his mind again, knowing she's too important to forget.

Evelyn.

Yes, that's it.

His Evelyn.

Where is she?

He can go to her--he needs to go to her because she'll know what to do. She'll have a plan and she'll know how to help him and--

A tap on his shoulder instinctively rises a growl, his eyes snapping open. The woman stands there meekly, fumbling with her hands. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

He tries to soften his features, knowing he looks horrendous.

She notices, and she attempts a soft smile of her own. "I was just... After we get my son, we'll be near Doctor Stevens's old laboratory and I just thought you would want to stop by there."

When he gives her a confused, almost disgusted look, she sighs. "I know what he did to you. The serum that made you so aggressive. But I also know how to make that aggressiveness go away. His lab has plenty of serums that will contradict this one and that'll help you feel normal again. But... can you make it there without, you know, killing me?"

He rubs his temples, taking this in before offering her a curt nod. He can control himself. With an incredible, practically nonexistent amount of willpower, but he can do it. He has to.

To get to Evelyn.

It may be near impossible but--

An abrupt pain strikes through his head, feeling as if his skull is splitting open. He falls to his knees with the agony of it, stifling the urge to curl into a ball in the dirt. A ringing replaces the pain, piercing so loudly, it feels as if his eardrums are bursting. He doesn't know if the shock or the ringing is more painful, but they're both terribly intense.

The woman lingers away from him, seeming stunned for a brief moment before something snaps inside her and she hurries over. "The implant," she murmurs to himself. "How could I have forgotten? He's tracking you. I have to cut the chip out, okay?"

He can't agree, but he doesn't make a move to disagree so she pulls out a small scalpel from her lab coat pocket. He flinches when her hand grabs the back of his neck, however, she doesn't give him the time to move away. He hardly feels the point of the scalpel dig into his skin, the ringing louder than ever and stealing all of his focus.

Then it goes quiet as quickly as the noise erupted.

Sweat beads his forehead and he keeps his head hanging, his hands grasping at the dirt. He tries to catch his breath, seeing nothing but white. He blinks rapidly, his ears sore and feeling numb. He thinks the woman is speaking, but he can't hear her. It takes all of his remaining strength to push himself to his feet once more. He wobbles a moment, but braces himself against a tree. The woman stands in front of him, her lips apart and eyes wide and his blood on her fingers along with a small black square. He subconsciously feels the back of his neck, his nostrils flaring when the scent of his own blood sparks the interest of monster inside. He stares at the red on his fingers as it taunts him, his stomach begging yet his throat closing.

"Hey," the woman whispers uncertainly. Her voice is an echo. "Are you okay?"

He manages to pull himself out of the trance, wiping the blood on his loose, almost hospital like pants, furiously. If it weren't for the soft material, he's sure he would've rubbed his skin raw.

She offers a timid smile. "I'm Michelle, by the way. I know you can't talk, but when you're able to again, you should probably know that."

Bewildered, he looks to her with hopeful eyes.

"Right." She runs her hands through her hair, her voice gradually sounding normal again. "Well, in short, Doctor Stevens disabled your vocal chords without actually harming them. Some concoction he made that numbed them or strained them or something. Sorry, I can't really remember what it does specifically. It'll wear off. The aggression serum will too, but he injected so many doses into you that it could take years for that to subside."

He frowns.

She quickly adds, "If I didn't have a way to contradict it, which I do. If we can get to his old lab, you'll be back to yourself..." Her eyes lower and she can't seem to finish her sentence. She knows he'll never be back to his true self. "You'll feel in control again," she says quietly a few seconds later, hesitantly looking back up.

He nods. That's good enough for him.

"The lab isn't far. Not even a full day's walk. We could be there by dawn if we keep a steady pace. My son isn't too far up the road..."

He nods again, noticing how fearful she seems to be of him still. He can understand that. It's hard not to be fearful of an evident monster that can't control himself.

Awkwardly, she crosses her arms over her chest and slowly begins walking away. He follows her at a reasonable distance, trying not to put her further on edge. His vision is still a bit hazy, and his ears still feel as if they're throbbing, but his legs are purposeful in their stride. He focuses on the pain of what the implant caused instead of focusing on the pain of him nearing insanity.

He's teetering ever so slightly on the thin rope, and he's not sure how much longer he'll be able to keep his balance.

Oh, how he'll desperately try to.

They walk without exchanging words, probably because the conversation will be one-sided. It's almost like he's back with Evelyn. Bits and pieces of their time together come back to him, how he didn't speak for weeks around her. The more he thinks about her and remembers her face, the more that comes back to him. He realizes how much he genuinely misses her; it feels like a punch to the stomach.

To distract himself from the troublesome thoughts circulating one half of his mind, he keeps the other half thinking about her. Which brings him back to remembering his actual memories of his old life. Of Edward and Penelope and his mother. It's starting to get hard to walk. His shoulders are sagging. He's putting himself in a nostalgic mood, a sad one.

But that's still better than going insane.

After about a half hour or so of trudging through the woods, Michelle leads him out onto a road. He tenses when he's in plain sight, listening closely and scanning the area meticulously. She actually laughs at his stiffness.

"Don't worry. I'm the only worker than lives down this way, and besides, none of them would be brave enough to confront you. They're still probably trying to figure out why they can't track you," she says.

He obviously can't reply, so he rolls back his shoulders in an attempt to relax, continuing to follow her down the road. Eventually, barely-standing houses begin to pop into view. Majority of them are missing doors or windows, the roofs caving in and holes in the walls. Wary eyes peer out of the holes and around corners, but instantly disappear when he turns to look at them. There's a creepy vibe to the rundown neighborhood, one that sets him in a fighting mode.

"It's not much," Michelle says, "but it's all I can afford. It's a roof over Asher's head, and that's all that matters."

She doesn't sound like she truly believes that, though. She sounds incredibly defeated over the fact that this is all she and her son have.

She hadn't been joking about her son being ill. He doesn't open his eyes when the two of them walk in. He mumbles incoherently when his mother picks him up, whimpering with tears running down his cheeks though his eyes are still shut. He coughs weakly, his face pale yet sweaty. Michelle sighs shakily, clutching him tight though her arms tremble. It's clear neither of them have been eating well.

Experiment 748 squeezes the remnants of his humanity, and stretches his arms out, nodding to her. She hesitates, but she knows she can't carry her son any distance further than the few feet of her house. She clenches her jaw, reluctantly settling Asher into the experiment's arms. He nods to her assuringly. He won't hurt him. He refuses.

It's pitch black outside a long while later, both of them still powering on. Michelle is breathing heavily, but she has no water or food with her to stop for, and she says she doesn't need to rest. He can't argue, and he's not sure he would if he could. He's jittery to get to the lab, to fix the damage done to him. Michelle seems to notice that. Maybe that's why she doesn't want to stop.

He's not sure how close they are when he stops dead in his tracks, a familiar scent drifting in the breeze. He sniffs. His chest constricts. Vanilla.

Evelyn.