Chapter 26

Blake came to consciousness and immediately began praying for death. It felt as though his muscles were being yanked from his bones, his skin slowly tearing from his muscles. His brain had taken on a life of its own, throbbing with such force it seemed as if it would crack his skull in half.

“Oh, fuck me,” he mumbled as a chill raced through his body. Peeling open his eyes, he looked around.

Where was he?

The thick scent of wood and dirt tickled his nose, and he tried to scratch it, but his hands were cuffed to a small metal hook above his head. He was lying on a cot. He glanced around the small space, sweat breaking out on his brow despite his chills. The memories came flooding back, and he realized that yes, he was indeed fucked.

He was at the mercy of the Platoon.

His stomach rolled, and he lurched to the side to vomit on the floor, but he couldn’t rotate over far enough and ended up with puke running down his bare torso. The thick air in the small space made him gag as he looked at the lower half of his body. At least Micah had bestowed a little dignity on him and dressed him in sweatpants. Rolling to his side a little bit, he felt something in his pocket and realized it was his disabled phone from the Saviors. If he had the energy, he’d laugh out loud.

“Ah, man,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks and into his ears. He rubbed the side of his head against the rough blanket beneath him to scratch the itch, and then something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

By the door, a little girl with blonde Shirley Temple hair crouched in the corner. She stared at him in utter fascination, and then fear crossed her round face as their eyes met.

Who was she, and what was she doing here in this . . . shed? He was being held captive in a shed?

He glanced over at the girl again and gave a tug on the cuffs, deciding she was his ticket out of here, or at least a good place to start with information on where he was being held. “Hi,” he whispered, and tried to smile. Hell, even that hurt.

She remained quiet, but tilted her head to the side as if she were studying an odd science project.

“My name’s Blake,” he said, his stomach heaving. He turned and vomited again, this time most of it hitting the floor.

Go him.

“You’re sick,” she whispered. “And you said a bad word.”

Blake nodded, his whole body trembling. Even if he wasn’t cuffed to a wall, he didn’t think he’d have the ability to walk out of the shed on his own accord.

"What are those red dots all over you?" the girl asked. "Are you bleeding?"

He didn't want to explain to the child that no, he wasn't bleeding and that someone else's blood had dried on him.

“Megan!” a woman’s voice yelled from outside, as running footsteps approached his jail cell.

“Are you a human?” Megan asked, ignoring the panicked voice.

Stunned, Blake wasn’t sure he heard her right.

“Megan!”

“What did you say?” Blake asked.

“Are you a human?” the girl asked again, and glanced over at the door.

What type of question was that? Why would she ask that? Unless . . . holy shit. If Micah was an SR44ian, then this little girl could very well be as well. However, he didn’t have time to question her, and he certainly lacked the energy to do so.

“Megan!” The door swung open, and an older version of Megan stepped into the shed, looking around frantically. Her honey-blonde hair hung to her chin, her dark eyes widening when she saw him. She gasped and grabbed the doorway.

Blake couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It was his angel, the one who came to him in her silvery form, the one he only saw when high. “Um . . . hi.” His throat was raw, his voice raspy.

“What . . . who . . .” Her gaze jumped from Blake to Megan, who was still crouched in the corner.

“Megan!” she cried, picking up the girl, and holding her to her chest.

“Mama, he’s sick,” Megan said. "And I think he was bleeding."

The woman stared at Blake a moment, anger settling in her features. “What is this?” she hissed. “Who are you?”

Blake just closed his eyes, exhaustion pulling him under despite the violence going on within his body. Of course she wouldn’t recognize him, because she’d been a figment of his imagination. There was no way he actually saw this woman before, and it was simply a coincidence that she looked like his apparition.

A moment passed, and Blake thought he’d been unconscious, but when he opened his eyes, the woman and child were still standing there staring at him. He pulled on his cuffs again, and the woman gasped, taking a step back out into the sunlight.

Just as the door began to shut, he gathered as much energy from within as he could, and called, “Megan! The answer to your question is yes!”

The door slammed, and Blake took one last look around. Sunlight streamed in through the slats, the dusty air dancing in its rays.

He shut his eyes and once again prayed for death.