The Tag Bearer

Chapter 7 - Test Subjects

The sky was turning a threatening shade of eerie purple as the sun slowly dipped behind the buildings, wishing us farewell for the day. I was glad the day was finally done, a small smile taking over the corners of my lips as I quietly followed F89's back towards a different warehouse on the west side of the city.

A long, slow moving line trailed into its entrance in front of us as we joined the queue in silence. It looked exactly like the one I had escaped from, only livelier. Tall grey walls embodied the cube-like warehouse, and patches of fresh steel were melded into the old metal, giving off an unusual lumpy texture. Officers patrolled up and down the line of filthy workers; guns loaded and poised ready to shoot at anyone who dared to even think of escaping. Drones hovered above our heads like eyes in the sky, relentless searching us as long as their electronic systems kept running. 

I glanced over my shoulder at Matthew. He stared endlessly at his feet as though he was shyly telling a lie, and I half expected him to say something witty, maybe even try to connect with me. But then again, I wasn't about to be a protective, nosy asshole like him. 

As we drew closer to the looming walls, Officers began to demand to see our arms. I knew better than to protest by now, but I somehow knew I never would fully be able to get used to that black uniform.

"Arm," the closest Officer to me instructed.

I held it out obligingly as he took out a scanner. A blue light illuminated the bottom of the machine as he waved it along my wrist waiting for it to beep. When it did, he nodded once, and I was pushed forward.

Another Officer shoved a tray with a single piece of bread and lumpy soup into my hands. It looked gross. Chunks of orange-like potatoes swam on the surface and an equally orange sauce accompanied it. I swear those orange lumps were moving.

The crowd of people became overwhelming as I pursued after F89 into the warehouse. I chased after her back as she wound her way through the endless corridors and moved to a far corner of the sleeping quarters. She sat down and carefully broke apart the bread on her tray.

I seated myself beside her and curiously looked on. "Why are you doing that?"

She didn't reply and instead continued to break the bread into tiny pieces mindlessly. "Eat," she eventually said.

I didn't need to be told twice. I shoved the stale bread down my throat, feeling its crumbs scratch the dryness of my throat. I glanced at the soup, feeling myself about to gag, my mouth still full of unchewed damper. The lumps wreathed, and on a closer inspection, I realized they were maggots.

Disgusted, I gulped down the vomit that was ready to erupt onto the floor, dampening it with the clump of bread. I looked back down at the moving wave of food; there was a little party happening in my soup - and I wasn't invited. I gritted my teeth; I was too hungry to care. With one massive breath, I raised the bowl to my lips and swallowed as much of the liquid as I could without it coming back up again.

As I placed the bowl back onto the ground, F89 smiled. "You'll get used to it," she said as she held her hand out for my tray. "I'll put these by the door, you grab out your pouch and set yourself up for the night."

"The pouch?" I asked. Since when did I get a pouch?

"Check your pocket silly," she said cheerfully as she got up and strolled away.

Check my pocket? I reached into my jacket and felt around the inside of it for a bit. Soon my hand clasped firmly around a soft enclosure of fine mesh. I carefully pulled it out; fearful the bottom would snap, and I would somehow die. With much hesitation, I undid the string and to my relief, all that greeted me was a toothbrush and a small folded blanket.