Chapter 09 - Initiation

Chapter 09

Initiation

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The Red Guard selected the bottom button on the elevator panel. It was marked with the signifier ‘B’. Below it, in place of a button, was a keyhole. It was marked with the letter ‘R’. It was the first time I saw something that wasn’t accessed with a sensor. Squinting, I could make out flakes of graying pinkish chips inside the hole. They were a brighter version of something else. I shivered looking at it.

The cramping sensation from my wrist reverberated through my body. Time skipped ahead before my muscles relaxed again.

The elevator doors were now open. Outside, in place of the wooden carpeted corridor was a bright white hallway. Along the solid walls were several doors. From the ceilings hung bright LEDs illuminating the pentagonal tiles that lined the ground.

My muscles tensed again as they dragged me out of the elevator. There was no relief from it. Each release was met with the same cramping pain soon after.

In front of me I saw the dial dangling from the guard’s hand. From the angled profile I could make out some of the lettering on the face. A series of tick marks ran around the knob. They were highlighted in increasing red hues with the arrow set one-third down in a lighter color. The farthest ticks were highlighted in a color more black than red. A warning label read off beside it: permanent damage or death.

A gulp of saliva slipped down my throat.

“Almost—,” he started, but his voice was cut off with another contraction. We were now standing in front of a door that had seemed a few paces from where we just were. “Here,” he said, pulling out a keycard and taunting it out in front of me. He held it up to the sensor on the door. With an affirmative beep, the white metal door hissed open.

With another full-body cramp, I was sitting in a chair. The orange armored guards were wrapping metal restraints around my arms, legs, and neck. Considering the powers elicited by the infection, I assumed it to only be a precaution. It would only take one spatial shift to get out of the chair. The contractions, on the other hand…

My muscles retracted once more, and I braced for the next cramp, but it didn’t come. I took a long exhale of relief.

The Red Guard clicked the dial back onto his belt. In his other hand, he held a tablet. On the back was a pentagon with the title Pentacore written under it in blocky lettering. He was smiling at it, scrolling through a file. “We’re going to have fun with you,” he said.

“This is how I join the Push?” I asked, still flexing my sore muscles back to normal.

The Red Guard’s smirk crept further up his face. Setting down the tablet on a metal trolley, he placed his hands on my wrist restraints. “You’re in the right place, boy.” His breath was ripe with a rotten smell.

Boy, it was a very patronizing word for a man who could’ve been younger than I was.

The door hissed open again, but the red guard did not stop staring.

“I’ll take it from here, Gary,” a woman said, walking into the room.

“Don’t try anything,” the Red Guard, Gary, snorted at me. He released his grip from my shackles and looked up to the woman. “All yours.” He walked out of the room with his two orange men, and the door shut.

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“I apologize for him,” the woman said. “He’s compensating for something.” She picked up the tablet he had left on the trolley. “Cade Willis,” she must've read off a file. “I’m Dr. Harmony.”

I nodded. “This is for the Push?” I asked again, wanting her answer instead.

She tied back her dark braided hair and slipped a pair of white latex gloves onto her hands, clicking her fingers together. “This would be the pre-checkup,” she said with a smile. Her face was also a young one. I wondered about the preference for Pentacore to hire younger employees, especially in positions that seemed like experience would be a valuable asset.

“How many people have done this so far?” I asked.

“Your group’s at nine, I think?” She said. She unbuckled the restraint on my neck and also one on my left wrist. She held it out, pushing against the white tattoo to see the implant inside.

I scrunched my face. “Have there been previous missions?”

She gave a nervous laugh. “We’ve only had a few.”

For now I was going to guess that was a lie. Except, it didn’t matter to me if they lied about it. Being lied to was something I’d come to expect from Pentacore.

She raised the stethoscope around her neck and fit the buds in her ears. Pressing the flat surface to my chest, she asked me to take a deep breath.

I listened to the heartbeats. There was no consistent rhythm. Sometimes there would be a gap between beats, and sometimes there would be an extra one between them. “Is that normal?” I asked.

She nodded. “You’re sick, Cade; some things are going to be wrong with you.”

“When does this mission leave?” I asked.

“Oh, I think they have you leaving about a week from now,” she said, taking a tool from the metal trolley to look into my ears. “Have you been hearing any kind of odd sounds recently? A hum? A whistle?”

I shook my head. “Should I be?”

“No,” she replied with what appeared to be a frown on her face. She made some notes on the tablet. Each of the other parts of my face she examined was much briefer.

“Doctor?” I questioned.

She had picked up a reflex hammer. “Yes?”

“Why haven’t I been allowed to take my pills?” I asked.

“Oh,” she said, waving the object. A part of me wanted to call it a nervous habit of hers. “It's a tolerance thing; testing your vulnerability is all. You may start taking them again after our session.”

“Right,” I said, gleaning extra information from her demeanor.

“Relax your knee,” she said.

I did, and she smacked it with the small hammer. Instead of a slight kick, my leg shot up in a jittered flick before snapping back down.

There was a small twitch in her lips at the action. She repeated the process on my other knee, which provided a similar reaction, though this time it flicked up before the hammer touched my skin.

“So one question we have to ask all our patients, Cade—” she started.

I looked at her with interest.

“—Is if you’re content with death,” she finished.

There was a hesitation that caught in my throat, but eventually I did answer her with a yes.

“Well, just one more test,” she said, peeling the plastic back from an object she had chosen from the trolley. The needle was attached to a small vial. She motioned for my arm, and I laid it out for her.

“You’ve got easy veins,” she mentioned, slipping the needle down into the large blue median cubital vein on the anterior of my elbow.

The vial filled with my discolored blood. The red hues were distorted by softer pink ones that seemed to sparkle in the fluid. Blood draws had always fascinated me to watch, but this one even more so.

“We do honor you for your bravery,” Harmony said, looking up to me.

I wasn’t sure if that was the word I'd use for it. “Thank you,” I managed out.

When the vial was nearly full, she slipped it from my arm and held down a gauze pad over the needle opening. It quickly soaked with the same off-color. She asked me to hold it down as she walked around the chair to store away the vial. Returning with some tape, she wrapped the gauze pad to my arm.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, carting away the trolley and removing her gloves.

“Fine,” I said. “Been better.” I tried to give a short laugh.

“I’m glad,” she said plainly. “We’ll run your full diagnostic later, but for now, Cade Willis. You are officially part of our next Push team.”