The Ganga Shift

Chapter 3

Chapter 3A small, perky girl dressed in scrubs, which were of course embossed with kittens, held out her hand for Isabella to shake. Her brunette hair was perfectly sleek and styled, coming just to her shoulders. She reminded Isabella of a sorority girl, the resemblance annoying the hell out of her.

“I’m Shannon,” the girl announced, glancing down at her still extended hand. “Don’t let the outfit fool you. I’m as much of soldier as the guys that d**g you in here. I just hate that god-awful camo gear.”

Isabella couldn’t help but sneak a condescending smile. Somehow, she couldn’t quite imagine this girl on any battlefield. Conley had trusted this her, who judging by her fresh face had to be a recent of nursing school grad, to keep his prisoners in line?

Good God. Maybe he wasn’t as smart as he looked.

On the way to the showers, Isabella had passed by two men in particular who looked like they were dying for some female companionship. Practically foaming at the mouth. This pretty little thing would be like fresh meat to them.

“And you are?” She beamed.

“I’m Isabella.” Now that her adrenaline had calmed to a simmer, she could smell the ripe odor coming off her own body. No way was she shaking anybody’s hand. Instead, she swiped her sweaty palm along her jumpsuit. “And I stink, I’m sorry.”

Shannon snorted, her eyes flashing in amusement. “Oh please. Have you seen the other inmates? You smell like roses compared to them.”

“I haven’t met anybody really, except you and Doctor Conley. Oh, and some rough-looking GI Joes.”

“They’re harmless,” the nurse promised before clasping her hands together. “I have to admit, I’m excited to finally have another girl around. It’s been just me for so long I was starting to OD on the testosterone.”

“None of the other inmates are girls?”

“Well . . . not anymore.”

“So there were? Well, where’d they go?”

Shannon’s brows stitched together before she replaced her sudden grimace with a fake, plastic smile. “They served their purpose. Doctor Conley didn’t need them around anymore. So! I bet you’re dying for a shower, huh?”

Isabella stared back in silence. It had taken her a long time to get used to showering with a group of other women, but she managed. One of the many drawbacks of getting yourself incarcerated—no privacy at all. But, standing there n***d in front of a bunch of strange men? The thought sent heat tickling up the back of her neck.

“Oh, no.” Shannon blushed, as if she had read the prisoner’s mind. “There’s no one else in there. You’ll be alone. Well, except for me. And I’ll wait out here.”

A twinge of excitement crept into Isabella’s core, and she gave a lopsided smile. She hadn’t been left alone in two years. God, she missed her own company.

“Really? But, isn’t that against protocol?”

“You’ll find restrictions are a bit more lax here than your last home.”

That didn’t make much sense. Here she was, in the middle of some batshit crazy, secret laboratory, and Doctor Conley didn’t have this place on lockdown?

“Aren’t you guys worried about us bolting?”

Shannon scrunched her nose, as if the idea was the most absurd thing she’d ever heard. “I mean, you could try. But where would you go?”

“Uh . . . I don’t know. Ditch the orange getup and hop a bus to Mexico?”

“There aren’t many buses passing through the center of Cheyenne Mountain.” She giggled. “Plus, it’s the middle of February, remember? You wouldn’t get very far out there. Either the cold would get you or the beasts would.”

“Cheyenne Mountain?” Isabella knew it by name, but little else. The occasional tourist would come into the diner in Denver she worked in before she was put away, usually jabbering on about it being NORAD Headquarters. Conspiracy theorists spouted doom-and-gloom stories about the place, but Isabella never really paid attention. She usually had enough of her own problems to worry about without getting caught up in the gossip. Now, it seemed, she was right in the middle of the myth.

“Just outside of Colorado Springs.” Shannon nodded as she repeated the same information Conley had revealed to Isabella earlier.

Isabella opened her mouth, but the barrage of questions she had ready to fire melted on the tip of her tongue. If there was anyone in this facility she could convince to give her more information, it was this little scrap of military castoff. She was lonely, and way too eager to make a friend for her own good. Even so, Isabella knew she would need to build a little rapport to get her to spill it all. Sorority chick was about to gain a new BFF.

“Thanks for the warning.” Isabella mustered up as much sincerity as she could. “And, thanks for the privacy. It’ll be nice to enjoy a few minutes alone for a change.”

The nurse’s smile reached her shimmering eyes. “Oh! I almost forgot.” She spun around and grabbed a bag off the floor. “A change of clothes. Sorry, we don’t do prison orange in here. Conley says the color gives him a headache. All I could find that would fit you were some shorts and a tank top. I hope that’s okay. Oh, and here. Some soap and a razor.”

“A razor?” No way she heard that right.

“Uh huh.” She held scuffled in the bag, pulled out a disposable razor and handed it to Isabella. “Sorry I couldn’t get you anything better. This is just a single blade. It’ll probably nick your legs to hell, but I figured it would be better than nothing.”

Isabella gawked at the item with her mouth hung open. Another drawback of being in lockup: hairy legs. Gross. Shaving was such a simple luxury taken for granted by millions of women on the outside. She ran a careful finger across the sharp edge and smiled. Maybe she’d judged the girl too quickly.

“Thank you.” This time, she meant it.

“Don’t mention it. I mean really, don’t say anything to Conley. He wouldn’t like it.”

“Why would you risk setting off the mad scientist? He’s like a ticking time bomb.”

Shannon shrugged.” I guess I just figured if I was in your position I could use any bit of normalcy I could grab ahold of.” She pointed down a hallway with white tiled walls. “Shower stalls are down there.”

The inmate nodded and made her way down the hall, where it opened into a changing room. Mirrors covered all four walls, offering Isabella a sight she hadn’t seen in quite some time.

She glowered at her reflection, scowling at what she saw. In Denver, there were no mirrors out of fear an inmate might break it and use the broken glass as a weapon. Isabella hadn’t seen herself in over two years. And now, she was almost glad for it.

Her skin was so pale, if it wasn’t for the slight slant to her eyes she could almost pass for Caucasian. The matted, black mess on the top of her head somehow had managed to retain its natural shine. Her cheekbones stuck out, and the outline of her collarbone was far too visible. Her jumpsuit draped over her in the most unflattering of ways. She needed another twenty pounds at least.

But it was her eyes that struck her the most. There was something hostile and alien behind the dark-brown pigment. Almost as though something was lurking inside her that hadn’t been there before.

She would never admit it to Conley, but when she woke up after the final injection, there was definitely something different about her. Although she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, there had been a change.

Her mind felt crisper, refreshed. At first, she thought maybe the sedatives had just given her some much-needed rest, but it was more than that. A sort of primal, instinctive, and animalistic recharge.

Plus, there was the whole heel, girl thing Conley had pulled on her. Isabella had never felt such a need to obey. It was as though he was her master, and she would disappoint herself if she disappointed him.

“God, I look beastly.” She groaned as her sweaty, shaking hands made clumsy work of removing her jumpsuit. She was still freezing, and now that her n***d body was exposed to the air, she trembled uncontrollably from head to toe.

Leaving a crumpled pile of dirty clothes on the floor, Isabella stepped into the stall and turned on the water, praying the pipes hadn’t frozen over.

A welcome waterfall of warm water cascaded over her body, raising her temperature just enough to chase off the chill. Isabella was quick to wash up and shave. The hot water wouldn’t last long with the frigid temperatures outside. Even the scalding hot couldn’t warm her through to her core. She realized after a few minutes she wasn’t cold from the frost of winter. Cocaine withdrawal latched onto her from the inside, threatening to drag her body heat down as she crashed. This was just the beginning of what was sure to be a long, torturous night.

“I trust you’re finding your accommodations favorable?” Conley eyed her, almost daring her to say she wasn’t satisfied.

She sat across from him in his office. He set his elbows on top of an elaborate, dark oak desk fit for the president himself. Her n***d toes dug into the plush, green carpet under her. Smooth legs and something other than concrete to grace her bare feet. She almost felt at home.

“It beats the hell out of Denver,” Isabella admitted as she ran her fingers through her damp hair.

He leaned in toward her, reached out, and tugged on the black tank top she wore. “This suits you much better. I think the boys down the hall are going to like it.”

She jerked away from him, observing his demeanor and tone. Shannon had given her a pair of cut-off shorts and this skimpy, low-cut tank. It wasn’t that Isabella was ungrateful, but she wondered if the girl had thought it through. The first thing to cross Isabella’s mind when she pulled the clothes from the bag were the other inmates.

“Go screw yourself. Or better yet, have one of your Army men do it for you. You seem to enjoy their company.”

Conley lifted a pointer finger and waved it in time with a snake-like tsk he forced from his pursed lips. The sound sent a shudder through her. She had a sudden dreadful feeling she had just signed her own death warrant.

No. He needs you. Isabella reassured herself in silence. She was far too valuable for him to discard. She was the single person who could bring down his mutant project. Her chest swelled with conceit at the notion. He can’t touch me.

She lifted a chin at him. “You heard what I said.”

He sat motionless, burning his eyes into hers. A bead of sweat dripping down his forehead betrayed Conley’s stoneface. He squinted his eyes together, as if he was struggling to call on some internal power.

Isabella held her breath, fighting against the urge to apologize. Words gurgled in her gut, summoned from her belly and filling her mouth without her permission. She bit down hard on her tongue to keep the filth from escaping.

“That’s right,” Conley murmured. “You’re a faulty specimen. Private Ford.” He waved the attention of a soldier standing guard in the doorway. “Please escort Ms. Baker to cell two.”

The Marine clicked his heels together, saluted in the most animated fashion, and yelled, “Sir. Cell two is occupied, sir. Cell three is vacant, though.”

“Yes, I’m aware of the state of my own laboratory. I’ll thank you not to question me again, Private. I believe our guest will be more comfortable in cell two.”

“Yes, sir.” This time, his tone was much less military-drone. A hint of concern clung to his voice. He snuck a peek at Isabella, searching her face for a trace of fear.

Isabella may just be a dumb inmate, but she was smart enough to figure out Conley’s aim. He would probably throw her in a cell with a wife-beating r****t to teach her a lesson on compliance. Too bad for him she was too stubborn to allow it to sway her.

She stood and followed the marine from Doctor Conley’s office down a corridor to a pair of locked double doors. The soldier placed his finger on a scanner until it released a high-pitched beep, followed by the sound of a lock releasing. Once they stepped through the doorway, the solid concrete walls at their sides disappeared, replaced by the familiar sight of jail cells.

The pens spanned the room as far ahead as Isabella could see. Different prison, same aching feeling in her chest; the feeling of being completely trapped and hopeless. These cells were larger than the ones at Denver, but let’s face it: it didn’t matter how large a cage was. . . . It was still a cage. She would still be locked inside, at the mercy of the man who held the key to her freedom.

She never did understand the thought process behind prison, at least not for nonviolent offenders. A person makes a mistake, so they’re locked up and their civil rights are dangled in front of them as incentive. Be a good little jailbird and earn back your liberty. Ha! More like sit in a claustrophobic’s hellhole, claw your way to survival while your resentment and fury feed your addiction.

One thing was different here, though. The prisoners on the other side of the bars behaved in the strangest manner she’d ever seen on the inside. They stood at attention in obedient silence as the guard walked past. No snide, colorful comments. No one stepped out of line. Good little drones, just like the military personnel running the place.

The Marine at her side pulled her arm to bring her to an abrupt stop before placing his finger on another lock. The cell rattled open.

“Your cell.” He slipped his hand into her back pocket, then quickly back out again before giving her nudge forward.

What the f**k?

Isabella whipped around and raised a flattened hand, prepared to smack the hell out of the pig. Marine or not, that was the kind of a cheap shot that she wouldn’t just stand by and allow.

Private Ford snatched her wrist before she could make contact, holding it in his firm, calloused hand. He leaned forward and whispered, “You’re going to need it.”

While he held her right arm still, she reached around and fondled the outside of her back pocket with her left hand. Her eyes widened. The outline of a razor blade was clear as day.

Her new friend must be damned vicious if the guard was willing to arm her. What the hell kind of monster was waiting for her?

Before she could say a word, Ford shoved her backward, locked the cell door between them and marched back the direction they came.

Isabella swallowed hard against the sudden burn in the back of her throat. The fire of fear fell over her. Her scalp prickled, exacerbating the ever-worsening chill that still had a grip on her. The thing behind her could probably smell her fright, but she would be damned if she’d let it be obvious to anyone looking.

On shaking heels, Isabella turned to face her new cellmate head on.