Wild-born (26 page)

Alia looked thinner than I remembered, but she ate well enough, and after lunch I played with her until she got sleepy and curled up into a ball on the bed for her afternoon nap. Having nothing to do and not being in the mood for meditation, I sat on the side of the bed and watched her sleep. Dr. Kellogg returned about half an hour later, quietly slipping in and tapping me on my shoulder.

I obediently followed him into the airlock, sat in my wheelchair, and felt the control rods touch my wrists as the inner door slid shut. The outer door opened and Dr. Kellogg wheeled me out. He took me down the corridor to another room, a few doors from Alia’s. Once through the airlock, my control rods retracted again, and I looked around at my new cell. It was identical to Alia’s right down to the location of the bathroom door on the wall opposite the airlock. I looked up at the camera and speaker mounted on the ceiling, and wondered briefly where the microphone was hidden. I sat down on the bed and Dr. Kellogg sat on the stool.

“I spoke to Dr. Otis over lunch about your proposal,” began Dr. Kellogg.

I looked hopefully at him. “And?”

“He said he will think about it. Dr. Otis is a cautious man. Most people here are, considering the nature of our work. You will have to convince him of your good intentions yourself.”

“How do I do that?” I asked, wondering if Dr. Otis was watching me through the camera right now.

“Well, you said that you will cooperate in any way you can, so perhaps you can start by answering some of my questions,” said Dr. Kellogg. When I nodded, he asked, “Firstly, why can’t Alia speak?”

“What do you know about her?”

“We know that she’s a healer,” said Dr. Kellogg, “and that she has numerous scars from what appear to be long-term physical abuse. Aside from that, however, we don’t really know anything.”

“You don’t know that she’s also telepathic?”

“I didn’t,” admitted Dr. Kellogg.

“Well, now you know,” I said, and then briefly told Dr. Kellogg about Alia’s time in the care of her devil-obsessed keepers. He listened without interruption, and thanked me for telling him.

“Now you understand why I don’t want to see Alia hurt anymore,” I said.

Dr. Kellogg nodded. “Under the circumstances, I think it would be best to let your testing schedule start first, and delay Alia’s until she is more comfortable in her new surroundings. I have a fair amount of say in when and how certain experiments are conducted, even if I don’t really understand the theories behind them.”

Suddenly I heard Alia’s frightened voice in my head saying,
“Addy? Addy, where are you?”

The ceiling-mounted speaker crackled to life, and I heard a woman’s voice say crisply, “Dr. Kellogg, please report to Monitor Room B.”

“Alia’s awake,” I told Dr. Kellogg. “She’s scared because I’m not there.”

Dr. Kellogg looked up at the camera and said, “Control, is this about number 46?”

“Yes, Doctor,” the woman replied. “She’s crying again.”

“In that case, I’ll go directly to her room,” said Dr. Kellogg. “Please lock band 47.”

I felt the metal rods extend from my control bands as Dr. Kellogg said to me, “You will come too, please.”

Dr. Kellogg quickly wheeled me back, and as soon as the inner airlock door opened, Alia jumped onto me. Once she stopped crying, Dr. Kellogg left us there and I spent the rest of the afternoon keeping Alia company.

Dr. Kellogg showed up again just before dinner. But this time, my control rods were extended because he was with a uniformed military guard carrying a black briefcase. The guard opened his briefcase to reveal a pair of small white control bands with “P-46” stenciled across them.

“We finally made some her size,” said Dr. Kellogg. “I’m sorry about this, but it is regulation here. At least she can now leave the room... uh, if she wants.”

I could see that it was no use to protest this, but Alia shook her head and cowered behind me, refusing to let the guard near her.

“Dr. Kellogg, please hold her down,” said the guard.

Alia started to bawl again. Though dizzy from being drained, I got between them, explaining that the problem wasn’t the control bands, but rather the man who was scaring her. I asked Dr. Kellogg to teach me how the control bands worked so I could put them on Alia myself.

Taking them from the guard, I examined the insides of Alia’s new bracelets. I saw the little holes where the metal rods extended from and where the battery pack went. The control bands were designed to snap into place and not come off unless the correct radio signal was sent either from the facility’s Central Control Room or from the little white remote controls that the doctors carried in their pockets.

Dr. Kellogg showed me his remote control. I examined the small buttons on it, which were set into the device so that they wouldn’t be pressed by accident. The buttons were marked with numbers zero to nine and the letters E, R, U and I. Dr. Kellogg explained that the letters stood for Extend, Retract, Unlock and Incapacitate, which was their polite word for sending jolts of electricity through your body.

If only for a reason to delay the moment I would have to snap the bands onto Alia’s wrists, I asked Dr. Kellogg, “Back in my room, why did you ask the Control Room to drain me if you have this remote control?”

“Oh, well, it’s a little tedious to press these little buttons, see? It’s easier simply to ask,” replied Dr. Kellogg, pocketing the remote control again. “We rarely use the remotes, though we have to carry them everywhere. Just another protocol.”

I hated making Alia put out her arms so I could cuff them with a torture device, but it was either me or the big guy. Alia actually took it better than I did, probably because she didn’t know what these things could do to her. I prayed she would never find out.

The battery packs made the control bands heavy, but Alia soon got used to it and didn’t spill too much of her dinner soup. A woman from the Control Room had brought a taller chair for Alia, so I got the dining chair this time.

Having no access to sunlight, the only source for knowing the time of day was the electronic desk clock. As I watched Alia’s bedtime draw nearer, I wondered how I was going to get back to my own room without Alia crying again, but found no answer.

“Addy, don’t go!”
pleaded Alia, grabbing my arms when I stood up to leave.

“Ali, it’s almost bedtime,” I said, trying to break free of her. But I could already see that there was no way I was getting out of her room that night, so I called Dr. Kellogg and asked for a mat and a sleeping bag.

He instead brought in a folding army cot along with a pillow and a blanket, which we set up in the small space next to the dining table.

The room didn’t have a dresser, but Dr. Kellogg had also brought in a change of clothes for Alia and me. It was another set of white cotton shirts, pants and underwear identical to the ones we were wearing. When I asked, Dr. Kellogg informed me that these facility-issue garments doubled as our sleepwear and would henceforth be delivered twice a day to our rooms along with the morning and evening meals. We weren’t even allowed shoes or socks, just a pair of simple plastic slippers. I didn’t find this too surprising since we were the equivalent of in-patients at a hospital, but I still wished our clothes weren’t so unnaturally white. It made me feel really exposed and vulnerable.

“It’s just regulation here, Adrian,” said Dr. Kellogg. “I’m sure you’ll get used to it soon.”

Dr. Kellogg made a quick trip back to my room and returned with my cup and toothbrush before bidding us goodnight. Then our control bands were snapped open by Central Control so that we could bathe before bed.

Alia asked me to bathe with her like Cindy often did, but that’s where I drew the line. The last time I had bathed with anyone was when I was seven and Cat was five. After a good deal of teary-eyed tugging at me, Alia finally consented to take her bath alone under the non-negotiable condition that I sat right outside the bathroom door and guarded it with my life.

Though she couldn’t swim, Alia was a water-baby, often spending more than an hour splashing around in the tub back at Cindy’s house. Here, however, she was in and out in less time than even I usually took.

When she got out, she asked me to help her dry her long hair, and then got all upset when, according to her, I went about it the wrong way. I regretted how little attention I had given to all the things Cindy had been doing for her back at home. Parenting should be taught in school.

I took my bath next, though this caused some difficulty as well. Alia didn’t want to be left alone in her room. I conceded to leaving the bathroom door slightly ajar, and Alia hid under her bed.

Dr. Otis had not been kidding when he said that there were cameras in every room. Even the bathroom had a waterproof one attached to the ceiling, and it took a while before I could bring myself to undress, but what choice was there?

I found Alia still hiding under her bed when I got out. Once we had brushed our teeth, I put Alia on her bed and lay down on my cot.

“No, Addy,”
said Alia, getting out of the bed and tugging at my arm.
“Over here. Please!”

I sighed heavily, though I couldn’t exactly say I wasn’t expecting this either. Earlier, when Dr. Kellogg and I were setting up the army cot, Alia had watched apprehensively though without comment. Now I could see that she was on the verge of tears again.

It was a single bed, which made for a bit of a tight squeeze even with a little kid, but Alia insisted I lie between her and the airlock door. She lay down on the wall side of the bed and, snuggling up against my side, went to sleep with her arms wrapped tightly around my body. I lay awake for hours, wishing once again that Cindy was there to help me with her.

C
hapter 13: First Impressions

My testing schedule did not start the next day, nor the next. In fact, I soon learned that it wasn’t going to start for a week. Apparently, Dr. Kellogg had convinced Dr. Otis to let me take care of Alia’s psychology for a while, and no one seemed to be in any real hurry here anyway.

Dr. Kellogg came by right after lunch on our second day at the Psionic Research Center. He brought us a small box full of books and magazines from the research center’s library up on what he called “Level 9.” I took the opportunity to ask more about the facility.

“We are on Level 10,” explained Dr. Kellogg, “which is the deepest habitable part of the research center. The building is large and circular, built into the earth rather than above it. There’s really nothing above ground. Of course, I can’t tell you much about the other levels, but they include additional living quarters for the doctors and military personnel, our main kitchen, library, as well as various entertainment facilities. Many of the doctors, including myself, live here permanently. There is only one way in or out of Level 10, which is the main elevator. The elevator is guarded by multiple security gates, soldiers, and automated defense systems.”

Hearing that, I did believe Dr. Otis’s claim that no one had ever managed to escape.

Dr. Kellogg’s box contained mostly novels, along with a few difficult puzzle books and several comics, but nothing that would interest Alia. There was also an old tennis ball, a deck of cards and a set of Dominoes that he had brought from one of the recreation rooms, but that was it. Dr. Kellogg was right: the facility really wasn’t equipped for children.

“Next time I go to town, I’ll pick up some books and toys for her,” promised Dr. Kellogg. “Is there anything in particular she might enjoy?”

“Coloring books and storybooks and board games,” I replied automatically. “Anything with unicorns in them.”

Dr. Kellogg raised an eyebrow. “Unicorns?”

“Alia’s got a thing for unicorns,” I explained, and told him how a giant stuffed unicorn doll was the only toy Alia had taken from her room when we left Cindy’s house.

Dr. Kellogg smiled as he stood up to leave. “I’ll see what I can find.”

I wanted to go see the library with him, but he told me that I was permanently restricted to Level 10.

“And besides, Adrian,” he added with a nod toward Alia, who was hiding behind my back and studying Dr. Kellogg from over my shoulder, “how do you plan to even leave the room?”

With her eighth “birthday” only a month away, Alia was not a baby anymore, but she was certainly acting like one. Growing up in Cindy’s house after Mark had moved away, Alia should have been used to being alone. She was alone in the daytime while Cindy was working at the hospital, and she even spent nights alone when Cindy was out looking for me in the city. After I started living at Cindy’s house, Alia had lost some of her self-reliance, but she still had very little trouble being left to herself. After all, until Cindy and I managed to coax her into coming to the pond with us, Alia spent those days on her own in the house. But the shock of being separated from Cindy, tortured by the Wolves, and then drugged and sent to this place... Well, I couldn’t say I didn’t understand how she was feeling. Besides, Cindy’s house was familiar ground to her. Mark’s place was change enough for her to regularly cling to Cindy at night, and Alia had trusted Mark. How could I possibly hope to get Alia used to a place like this? “Give her time,” said Cindy’s voice in my head again.

Well, time was the one thing we had in abundance. For the rest of that day, Alia and I sat in the room and played together as if we were back in Cindy’s house, stacking Dominoes and throwing around the tennis ball. Alia was calm enough when she was alone with me, but as soon as the airlock door started to slide open, such as at mealtimes, she immediately reverted to baby-mode, retreating behind me or hiding under the bed.

“We’ll just give it some time,” suggested Dr. Kellogg through the intercom that evening, confirming Cindy’s tactic. “I hope you don’t mind too much.”

“Great!” I replied sarcastically, looking up at the camera and rolling my eyes. “Now I have the bedtime of a seven-year-old.”

Actually, I didn’t mind the early bedtime nearly as much as how painfully stiff my body had felt in the morning as a result of Alia clinging to me all night. Being unable to move at all was really uncomfortable, but Alia asked me to sleep in her bed the second night too. Again I obliged her, but once she was peacefully snoring, I carefully pried her fingers off of my arm and moved over to the cot. The next morning, Alia discovered what I had done and was sullen about it all day. I promised never to leave her side during the night again, and even had Dr. Kellogg remove the army cot, resigning myself to being Alia’s new pet unicorn.