The Wilds

II - Orion

Three years after

   Two of the five usual guards entered the room with their guns aimed at 0872’s head, the others flanking a terrified tiny man in a lab coat on all sides. 0872 fought the urge to feel insulted by such blatant underestimation, but it was rapidly replaced by confusion. Where was Dr. Tennison? Not that he’d dare ask. Something on the back of his mind kept telling him that it was better if they weren’t aware he could talk or understand their words. Not that they were any interesting: medical talk mostly, as the tiny man in a lab coat started babbling about needing 0872 chained so he could proceed with his exams.

   One of the men aiming their guns at him pointed it straight to 0872’s forehead while the other circled him. 0872 growled lowly when the man touched his wrist, making the room’s atmosphere tense in record time, but otherwise, let the man do his work of strapping him to the bed. Eyes fixed on the tiny man as he approached, 0872 tried to keep control of his breathing when the first syringe pierced the skin on the underside of his elbow. He inhaled loudly, making the doctor’s eyes rise to meet his for the first time, a clear glint of fear in them, but managed to control his movements.

   The tiny man in a lab coat, despite being unremarkable and clearly harmless, was a source of mystery to 0872. Since he was aware of himself, Dr. Tennison had been the doctor in charge of him, the one man who would take his vitals, make him run tests on a treadmill and lift progressively heavier weights, document his biological responses to smells and noises, make him writhe in pain till his instincts kicked him and 0872 had to be sedated yet again; the one man who would go and inject or extract things from his veins every week since childhood. The one person he was longing to kill the most.

    “How old is this subject?” the doctor asked, lifting his eyes yet again to 0872’s, who met his gaze with such intensity the man averted his eyes out of fear. Despite the livid flash in his features though, 0872 didn’t let any understanding of the words show. As far as those men knew, he was simply an angry beast because beasts were naturally angry.

    “Around eighteen, if I’m not mistaken, sir” replied one of the guards. Kaczynski, if 0872 remembered the name correctly. He was constantly complaining about his wife to the other guards in the courtyard, and was a rather sore loser on chess, having cheated a few times and almost earned a beating that both 0872 and 1343 were hoping to watch – or rather hear.

    “And around when did the epilepsy started to show?” he removed the first needle from 0872’s arm, it almost filled to the brim with dark red blood, and replaced it for another.

    “Early teens, fourteen at most” replied Kaczynski yet again. 0872 asked himself why the man knew so much information when he clearly wasn’t capable of doing his job as a guard properly, much less as a wing chief. Had Chief Thomas disappeared as well, along with Dr. Tennison? He would have to tell 1343.

    “Was it around the time the instincts started to manifest?” asked the doctor again, and 0872 shifted uncomfortably when the man pulled the plumber and the blood began filling the barrel, the suction in his vein burning.

    “Yeah, but they only showed for a while. He would resist us, huff and puff and all that. Now he just growls sometimes and that’s it.” Replied Kaczynski and 0872 narrowed his eyes at him, even though the man was barely in his line of sight. His instincts hadn’t disappeared, he had all but tamed them. It had ultimately come to that or risking exposing the hole in the wall, the only thing that had kept him from going insane for three whole years. The decision had been easy, especially as 1343 had decided to lie low as well. Not that she was particularly good at it.

    “Any distinct changes in the physical tests?” the doctor asked, at last taking the damn syringe off from 0872’s arm.

    “Not really, he was always strong and fast given the right motive, I guess he just sorta lacks the other's violence” Kaczynski answered and 0872 had to restrain his body's reaction to a closed fist upon hearing the word others. He had a faint idea there were others like him, it all but made sense really, yet he had never heard of them, not even the slightest of mentions. Not from the courtyard, and certainly not from Dr. Tennison.

    “We’re done here,” said the doctor whilst gluing stickers on the two blood tubes, one green other yellow. 0872 tried reading them, but the letters made no sense to him whatsoever.

   With his wrists and ankles now unbound, 0872 watched the men go in a mass of white uniforms and the smells of blood and deodorant, the two guns pointed to his forehead up until the door closed in front of them.

   He waited for about five minutes before crouching next to the heart rate machine and pushing it out of the way. Lying down beside it, his back against the cold vinyl floor, he put his hand near the opening and waited for 1343’s to join it. It took less than a minute before he felt her fingers reach out to his own. 0872 took her hand, her digits curled so the claws wouldn’t hurt him, and cupped her palm in his.

    “Did you hear that?” he asked after a while, brushing his thumb against the back of her hand in a light stroking motion.

    “Mhm,” she replied, the sound coming out more in the form of a purr than a word“Now he just growls sometimes and that’s it” she imitated Kaczynski’s voice, nearly perfect in pitch, and 0872 barked a laugh. “f*****g bastard, isn’t he? And I’m sure most of the other guards would agree”.

    “You should talk to them about it sometime, I’m sure they’d love your input” he muttered and immediately let out a restrained grunt when one of her nails dig softly in the skin of his palm. 0872 let the silence stretch for a while, waiting to see if she would bring it up. She didn’t, so he let the words flow from his lips a bit more hesitantly than he would have wished: “They said there are others”.

    “They did” was her response, and for a moment it weighted in the air as if it would be all she would say. 0872 could hear the change in her breathing though, and he knew what she would ask right before she asked it: “Do you believe it?”

    “It makes sense, and they wouldn’t lie” he responded, as straightforward as he could. After all, the mention of others raised questions and doubts in his mind he wasn’t at all sure he was ready for. If those men could keep a bunch of “subjects” like him confined, subjects possibly worse than 0872 if the lack of security on their part when dealing with him said anything, the distant idea of one-day running away with 1343 could as well shape itself into just that – a vague, romantic idea. “Has Tennison visited you?” he decided to change topics.

    “Haven’t seen him in a few weeks, nope” she replied “Does it worry you?”

    “I don’t like the new doctor” 0872 shrugged.

    “You didn’t like Tennison either”.

    “Eh, true. Still, this one sounds like he’s plotting something” he continued: “Has he visited you?” and upon hearing her soft purr of acquiescence, asked, “How did it go?”.

    “The usual” she replied almost unwillingly, not giving him any descriptions of what the ‘usual’ was, she never did. “He did take off one of my meds though”

    “Which one?”

    “The blue pills”

    “The ones you’ve been taking since…” 0872 trailed, and he caught the soft, lightly bitter laugh that came from her as she completed:

    “Ever? Yeah, those”

   Putting an arm underneath his head, 0872 let the silence between them stretch comfortably. It may have been awkward in the beginning, but after three years of talking, the simple idea behind each other’s company, the very own fact that the other was there, became just as meaningful as any words. It wouldn’t be the first time they just lay next to each other and let their thoughts travel far away, or even slept for the matter. There was comfort in silence, as there was comfort in spending whole nights talking about anything and everything. This time though, 0872 couldn’t shake off the feeling that things were changing. Perhaps for the good, perhaps for the worse – the only undeniable truth was that it scared him. His instincts, since they were seemingly awoken by the convulsions years before, had always told him to fight. At the moment though, they screamed at him to take flight.   

   The guards in the courtyard sometimes brought with them a small machine 0872 and 1343 soon learned to be called radio. It would mostly narrate games of football, hockey, and basketball, yet sometimes one of the guards would change it to a music station. Most of the songs that would repeat over and over again soon grew tedious. But other times, something different would play, something they would both like and dare hope to listen to again soon. It was one of these songs that 0872 had been listening to 1343 hum for a few minutes now.

   Her scent had been strange that morning, to the point of affecting 0872’s mind and make his head run into a strange, craving-induced frenzy. Craving of what though, he didn’t know. And neither did 1343, though he was aware she could tell there was something different between them. She said nothing though, and since neither of them had any idea how to address the somewhat unclear elephant in the room, they left it at that.

   0872 was more than glad to just listen to her low, soothing humming. 

    “Guards coming” he nearly shouted, them both letting go of each other’s hand at the very second his words left his lips. Getting up, 0872 waited to hear the scant sound of 1343 placing the heart rate machine against the wall before doing the same as he had done hundreds of times before. Upon hearing her door being unlocked, he let his body fall sitting next to the hole, his back leaning on the machine, to try and listen to the conversation.

    “Pin her downwards, secure her wrists and legs” the characteristic voice of the tiny man in the lab coat resounded around the room, and 0872 felt his blood run cold. Something was different about his tone, more decisive, none of the usual fear or quaking creeping their way through.

   And then 0872 caught it, the scent of one of the others. Male and large, with a hint of something he couldn’t quite place just like 1343. He heard the heart rate monitor’s beep spike up even earlier than he felt his own heartbeat escalate as a terrifyingly violent urge to rip something apart, to defend his territory, crept its way deep into his being. 1343 apparently felt the same, for he heard her trash and fight against the men who tried to pin her down, the noises of her kicks and hisses barely louder than the drum of his heart in his ears.

    “For Christ’s sake, just f*****g do it. Lie her on her stomach, yeah like that.” another voice, thicker and with some sort of accent 0872 couldn’t define, spoke up “And keep that thing strapped to the f*****g stretcher or we’re doomed. Did you hear me? Doomed”.

    “Wanna f*****g try it yourself? She’s too strong for just two of us to hold down” replied another.

    “There’s no need to waste so much energy keeping her restrained, he’ll subdue her whilst he beds her, it’s in his nature,” the doctor said, and 0872 felt something snap inside of him.

   Subdue. Bedding. s*x. As the words scrambled themselves around his brain, coming in short successions each, 0872 felt his breath leave his body, replaced by a growl that grew louder, rawer by the second, climbing up his chest as a rhythmic vibration and clogging in his throat like a lump. As the rage inside him built like an erupting volcano, something began clawing out of him desperate to be unleashed. Not even remotely human, his anger felt distorted and as it burned like fire lacing his veins and creeping up his spine. Muscles tight, jaw clenched firmly, his mind went overdrive as he slammed his body against the metal door.

   Again and again, 0872 crashed his body against the door with all his strength, shoulder hitting its bulk, the metal crushing where his body met it in a wave of shock that spread through his arms and torso. His bones hurt, and he could just about feel some of them breaking, but he didn’t stop.

   Again.

   Again.

   Again.

   Again.

   Because he wouldn’t let them do that to her.

   Because she was his.

   The noise was deafening, every time the side of his body met the door and dented it, it grew worse and worse. But 0872 swallowed the pain, both the one on his limbs and ears that now bled. He did it again.

   And again.

   With one further push, the door hinges gave way. Having used all his bodyweight, 0872 fell forward when the metal ahead of him collapsed on the floor, barely holding on to the doorframe’s edges to keep still. Not giving himself time to balance, his eyes perked up to face the terrified guards, all splattered around the corridor, but immediately focused on the other.

   They locked eyes, the other subject now untied and on all fours, the muscles in his arm and back bulging as if he was prepared to jump on the first thing that moved. He had claws, just like 1343.

   It barely took seconds, though the time seemed to stretch as tension grew palpably thick around them before 0872 leaped. Slamming his body against the man, they rolled on the floor, the beast’s weight collapsing above him, crushing his lungs and making him growl at the pain the erupted from his shoulder blades. They kicked and punched, both trashing as they rose above and below each other over and over.

   I attacked him. Scratched his jaw open and bit his ear off, said the voice in his mind, 1343 sounding as clear as back when he had first heard her three years before. With a decided growl, 0872 brought his face closer to the beast under him, closed his teeth on its earlobe, and bit, hard, pulling his head back and feeling the cartilage tear as if it were paper. The man whimpered, a pained hissed out sound, so sharp and loud that 0872 had to suppress a scream as it pricked his ears. Biting his bottom lip at the effort, he got to his knees, closed his hands on either side of his enemy’s head, and threw his body sideways with all his strength. Bones snapped beneath his hands.

   0872 got up, the other’s head, now hanging at an awkward angle still in his hands. The body sprawled around him as if it were made of liquid. His eyes shot up to the guards, all gathered on the opposite side of him, multiple guns pointed all over his body. The doctor was on the side of the coward’s pile, shoulders so high they met his jaw, skin so pale his mouth was turning a raw shade of purple.

    “Let me,” 0872 said, the words not sounding human at all.

   They wanted him to be feral, huh? So that’s precisely what he would be.