Human Bait

Chapter 25: The Cupboards

A zapping buzz. A flickering light.

Cold, smooth floor beneath me, and a throbbing pain in my head.

I peeled open heavy eyelids to see a black-smeared ball of light. Infected blotting out the setting sun? No, not the sun. Black flies swarmed an electric bulb.

I pushed up to sitting and wrapped my arms over my shivering chest. The light bulb hung from a metal ceiling, spilling shifting light over metal walls and floor.

Something shifted beside me, and I yelped and scooted back a foot.

The thinnest man I'd ever seen rocked back and forth on the ground, skeletal knees pulled all the way up to his sharp collarbones. Gaunt, dark eyes studied me above protruding cheekbones.

Was he Freshly-Baked?

Was I?

I swallowed to wet my dry throat. "Who are you? Where are we?"

He spoke in a squeaking rattle like a rusty swing set. "Name's Stogg, and we're in the Cupboards."

I wasn't sure if I was losing my mind or he'd already lost his. "The... the what?"

"The Cupboards, where they keep the prisoners at the Headquarters in Etherland. The helicopter brought the three of you here last night. The woman and little girl are in a cell down the hall."

"No man with a bionic leg?"

He shook his head. "Anyone with a bionic limb is safe. Their programming forbids them from attacking microchipped beings."

I released a slow exhale. We are not after you, the Fully-Fermented had told him. The thought filled me with both relief and a pinching sadness. He would live, but would I ever see him again?

I asked my next question quickly, before I lost my nerve. "Am I Infected?"

"Not yet, no. But it's not a virus, kid. It's a—"

"Microchip."

His patchy eyebrows shot up. "Didn't think anyone knew that. Funny, the Noble Forces created this microchip to force the Southies to leave the North, and now I am imprisoned with a Southie in our old Headquarters."

I sat up straighter and blinked, trying to clear the fog over my mind. "You are part of the Noble Forces? Why are you imprisoned?"

A grating shuffle almost like a laugh spilled from him. "It's been seven years since the Noble Forces controlled this Headquarters."

The cold floor beneath leeched every bit of warmth from me. Breathlessly, I whispered, "And who controls it now?"

"The Fully-Fermented. They're stronger than humans, much more in-sync... and they've developed far too much independence. That's the part none of us anticipated."

Remembering how that thing hopped up onto the watchtower behind me, I swallowed. "Then what did you anticipate? What were you trying to do?"

His gaze fixed on the fly-covered overhead light, eyes glazed. "It started off as a controlled experiment, a series of 'Kitchen trials.' We dug the Kitchen deep into the ground to ensure the Implanted never escaped, and we connected them all to the Chef, a single computer system we could easily power off if the experiment went awry. At least, that's how he pitched the idea to the rest of the Noble Forces, and we all believed everything he said."

"He?" I asked. "Who's he?"

Stogg's face paled even further. He tucked his chin into his bony knees and rocked back and forth, eyes glazed.

"Stogg?" I prompted. "Can you tell me more?"

"Tell you more? Yes, yes." He stopped rocking, and his eyes refocused. "Once our first Freshly-Baked became Overcooked, we called the experiment a success. Then we infiltrated a conference of the greatest minds in the South and Implanted the microchip in everyone there."

My throat tightened. The greatest minds like Doctor Lazora, who already suspected what the North was planning. "So you wiped out everyone most able to stop you."

"It was supposed to be a kind of internal coup to cripple the South and gain the upperhand, but we never meant to destroy the North. I don't think even he meant for this to happen. Unfortunately, the first Implanted from our trials developed powers we never could have imagined..." 

He glanced at me again, and a wry smile twisted his chapped lips. "And the Fully-Fermented escaped the Kitchen."

Boots thumped the floor down the hallway.

Stogg stiffened and lowered his voice. "Keep your breathing steady and heartbeat slow. The Fully-Fermented don't see or hear the same way we do, but they respond to bright lights, loud sounds, and unusual vitals. They only attack on the Chef's command—unless you trigger their hunt instincts."

The footsteps stopped outside our door.

I closed my eyes, fisted my hands, and drew in a slow breath. Still, my rebellious heart thumped against my ribcage.

A pair of feet shuffled to the door, and something clattered against the floor. Cold sweat trickled from my hairline down my temple. I forced my attention to the cold air entering my nose and warm air leaving.

The footsteps retreated.

With a shaky exhale, I opened my eyes. Steam wafted up from two bowls of food just inside the door. My stomach grumbled in response, but when I glanced at Stogg, he had not moved.

"Is the food safe to eat?"

He strummed bony fingers over his knees. "Safe, healthy... delicious, even."

I furrowed my brow. "Then why aren't you eating?"

He hesitated, licking his lips. "At this point, it won't help you to know. You might as well eat."

"To know what?"

He sighed. "Every third day, they take a dozen of the healthiest prisoners from the Cupboards to the Kitchen for a... a new kind of trial. They release a bunch of Overcooked, and any prisoners who survive are Implanted. It's a kind of self-perpetuating evolution, I suppose—the Implanted are finding the strongest humans to make even stronger Implanted."

Nausea swam in the pit of my stomach and coated my mouth in bitter saliva. I grasped at shredding strands of hope. "If the Fully-Fermented are all controlled by a single machine, then all I have to do is shut down that machine, right?"

"That's what he always told us. Maybe that's what he wants..."

"Who is this 'he' you keep referring to?"

His face spasmed a little, like a glitching program. Then he blinked and shook his head. "You can't compete with them. They're monsters—no, worse—they're machines."

"Humans created them. Why can't humans shut them down?"

He shrugged one shoulder, and his tattered shirt pulled taut around his jutting collarbone. "You look healthy, kid. I expect you'll see for yourself tomorrow."