The Prisoner of Cell 25

  Chapter Nineteen

  Taylor’s Arrival

  The van drove through the night, and Taylor slept for most of the ride, waking only when a voice came over the two-way radio up front or when the van stopped for gas. Taylor was given no food and only a bottle of water that Nichelle held for her to drink, purposely spilling a good portion of it down the front of her shirt and jeans.

  “Ugh, you wet yourself.”

  Taylor had no idea where they were or where they were going.

  The ride was mostly through desert until early the next morning, when they came again into city traffic.

  Around 2 p.m. the van pulled into a driveway with a guard booth and a tall gate lined with razor wire. The driver rolled down his window and showed the guard a badge, and the gate opened. They drove around to the back of the building, where a large overhead garage door lifted, and the van pulled inside. When the overhead door had closed behind them, the men climbed out and one of them opened the side door. Nichelle stepped out, then leaned against the van, stretching her legs. “Hurry this up. I have to pee.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” one of the men said. “Just stay close.”

  “What would you boys do without me?” she said. “Ain’t it awful?

  Can’t live with me, can’t shoot me.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” one of them said.

  One of the men took out a pocketknife and cut the band around Taylor’s feet, undid the strap around her waist, and pulled her forward. Taylor ducked down as she stepped out of the van to the orange-yellow painted concrete floor of the garage. She was trembling with fear, and felt like her legs might give out on her.

  “Hatch says to take her into the infirmary to get checked out,” the guard at the door said to the driver.

  Nichelle and one of the drivers took Taylor inside the building and down a well-lit corridor to a room at the end of the hall.

  The sign on the door said exam room b. Upon their entrance, a tall woman with cropped yellow hair, thin rimmed glasses, and wearing a white lab coat looked up from her desk.

  “This is Taylor Ridley?” she asked the man.

  “Yes. Sign here,” he said, thrusting out a clipboard. The woman signed the document, then handed the clipboard back to the driver.

  “Muchas gracias,” he said, and walked away.

  The doctor looked up at Taylor. “So you’re Taylor.”

  Taylor swallowed. “Yes, ma’am. Where am I?”

  “I’ll ask the questions,” she said sharply. “You’re in my office. I’m Dr. Parker, the resident physician at the Elgen Academy.” The woman turned to Nichelle. “Tell Miss Ridley what happens if she doesn’t cooperate.”

  “She knows,” Nichelle said. “Don’t you?”

  Taylor nodded.

  The doctor walked behind Taylor and cut off the plastic cuffs with a pair of surgical scissors. Taylor brought her hands forward and rubbed her wrists.

  “Thank you,” Taylor said.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  For a moment Taylor just stood there, then a sharp pain pierced her skull. “Stop! I’ll do it,” Taylor said quickly.

  She undressed down to her underwear. She didn’t know if they’d make her take everything off, but she wasn’t going to until they made her. To her relief, they didn’t.

  “Lay your clothes on the chair.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The doctor lifted a tablet computer from her desk. “Relax,” she said in a tone that only made Taylor more uncomfortable. “We’re just giving you a routine physical examination to see how healthy you are. Step onto the scale.”

  Taylor did as she was told. The doctor checked the number on the scale and wrote on her pad. Most of what the doctor asked Taylor to do was no different than when her mother took her to her own doctor for her annual physical, with one exception. She had Taylor stand against the wall and grasp two chrome bars. Then the doctor put on a thick pair of sunglasses. “I’m going to ask Nichelle to leave for a moment,” she said. “Are you going to behave yourself? Or do I need to bring in a guard?”

  “I’ll behave, ma’am,” Taylor said, looking at the ground.

  She nodded to Nichelle. “Stay close.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nichelle walked out of the room.

  The doctor said to Taylor, “This device tests your electrical pulse.”

  Taylor remained silent. After a moment the doctor explained,

  “The electric children have a secondary pulse. Actually, it’s more of an EKG.”

  “Why did you make her leave?” Taylor asked.

  “Nichelle distorts the readings.”

  When she was done running the test, the doctor punched a series of numbers into a machine that spit out a roll of paper. “I shouldn’t be surprised by this,” she said. “Your readings are identical to your sister’s.”

  “I don’t have a sister,” Taylor said.

  The doctor looked at her with a peculiar gaze but said nothing.

  She walked to her desk and pushed the talk button on the intercom.

  “Nichelle, come in, please.”

  Nichelle walked back into the exam room. Taylor immediately recoiled with fear.

  The woman gave Taylor a thin cloth jumpsuit. “Put this on.”

  Taylor stepped into it and zipped it up, noticing the plastic zipper and snaps.

  ”Nichelle,” the doctor said, “it’s time for Miss Ridley’s interview.

  Take her to her cell.”

  Chapter Twenty

  A Surprise Visit

  I was released from the hospital around six o’clock. A social worker from the state had come to my room to talk with me, and it was agreed that for the time being I would stay with the Lisses. We stopped at McDonald’s for dinner, then drove to Ostin’s house.

  Mrs. Liss had always been nice but tonight she was especially kind. As we walked into the apartment, Mrs. Liss said, “Michael, honey, you can get your things and bring them over. You and Ostin can share a room for the time being.”

  “I’d like to stay in my own room for now, if that’s okay.”

  She thought about it. “It is just down the hall. I guess that’ll be all right. Take this with you.” She took a bag of red licorice from her pantry and handed it to me. “It will help.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Want me to come over with you?” Ostin asked.

  “Thanks, but not now.”

  He patted me on the back. “I understand.” He’s probably the only fifteen-year-old in the world who would.

  I walked down the hall. I unlocked the door, walked into the dark apartment and flipped on the lights. Since we moved to Idaho I had spent a lot of time alone, but the apartment had never seemed so quiet and empty. I looked down at my birthday watch, then I twisted it around on my wrist.

  My eyes teared up. Where was she? I went into my mother’s bedroom. There was a picture on her nightstand of the two of us at Zion National Park in southern Utah. It had been a beautiful day, and Kolob Arch could be seen in the distance behind us. As I picked up the photograph I wondered if I would ever see her again. My heart ached. I lay on her bed and cried.

  Sometime in the next hour there was a knock on the door. I wiped my eyes and walked out. I had assumed it was Ostin, but to my surprise Taylor’s dad and a woman I guessed was her mother stood in the hallway. They looked very upset.

  Officer Ridley spoke first. “Hi Michael, we’re Taylor’s parents.

  Could we speak with you?”

  I looked at them nervously, reacting with my usual tics. I assumed they were here to talk to me about my mother. “Sure,” I said, stepping back from the door. “Come in.”

  Mrs. Ridley’s eyes were puffy. Taylor’s father put his arm around her, and they walked inside, shutting the door behind them.

  “Is Taylor okay?” I asked.

  Mrs. Ridley began to cry. Mr. Ridley said, “When was the last time you heard from Taylor?”

  “Yesterday afternoo
n. She was going to go with us to the aquarium. But when we got to the school she was gone.”

  Mrs. Ridley began to cry harder.

  “What’s happened?” I asked.

  “You haven’t heard from her?” Mr. Ridley asked.

  “No, sir.”

  He looked at me suspiciously. “Then you didn’t know that Taylor ran away?”

  My heart froze. “No. Why would she do that?”

  He shook his head. “You know, I’m tough on her sometimes. I just . . .” He paused, overcome by emotion. “I told her that if she didn’t start spending more time at home she would have to give up cheerleading.” He rubbed his palm over his eyes. “She texted her good-bye.”

  “We just didn’t see it coming,” Mrs. Ridley sobbed.

  “She won’t return our texts,” her father said. He took his wife’s hand. “We wanted to ask you a favor. We just want her home and safe. Will you please tell her that we love her, and we would really like to talk to her?”

  “If I hear from her,” I said. I felt sick but knew I couldn’t show it.

  “But I’m sure she has a lot of other friends she’d contact first.”

  “Then you have no plans to see her?” Mr. Ridley asked. There was a strong inflection in his voice.

  “No. I haven’t heard from her since yesterday.”

  They were both looking at me with a peculiar gaze. Finally Mrs.

  Ridley said, “An hour ago she sent another text that said ‘Tell Michael I’ll see him soon.’”

  Chills went up my spine. When I could speak I said, “I don’t know what she meant by that, but if I hear from her I’ll call you. I promise.”

  They both sat looking at me, and I guessed they were trying to decide whether I was telling the truth or not. Finally Mr. Ridley said,

  “Thank you, Michael.” They stood and walked to the door.

  Mrs. Ridley stopped in front of my door, blotting her eyes with a Kleenex. “I don’t know if you know this, but Taylor was adopted.”

  “She told me.”

  “The counselors told us that sometimes adopted children can carry a sense of abandonment. We tried to fill that, but I guess we failed.”

  “I don’t think you failed,” I said. “There must be some kind of misunderstanding.”

  “That’s kind of you to say, Michael. Taylor thinks a lot of you. I think if you told her that we love her, she’ll believe you. I think she might come back.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know that Taylor loves you both. I’ll let you know if I hear from her.”

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Ridley said. Mr. Ridley put his arm around her and led her out of my apartment.

  As soon as they were gone I ran down the hall and knocked on Ostin’s door. Ostin answered the door holding a half-eaten toaster strudel. He read the panic on my face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “They’ve got Taylor.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dr. Hatch and the Twin

  The cell Taylor was placed in was windowless and rectangular, with the walls, ceiling, and floor lined in a soft, pinkish rubber coating that resembled the material that pencil erasers are made of. Mounted to each wall were surveillance cameras, speaker boxes, and other sensors designed to monitor the cell’s occupant’s activities. On one wall were two chrome bars that stuck out about six inches from the wall—similar to the testing apparatus in the exam room.

  In one corner of the room there was a porcelain toilet and sink.

  The only thing that looked normal was the bed, which was on a wood frame.

  Taylor walked over to the bed. She saw that there was no metal of any kind used in its construction. The box springs were made from plastic and the mattress filled with down feathers. The bed had one other difference she didn’t fail to notice: leather restraining straps.

  The room was lit by fluorescent lighting concealed behind thick plastic plates. There was neither a thermostat nor switches in the room of any kind, and she had no control over light, heat, or air.

  The people watching her from the cameras would decide when she would have lights and how hot or cold she would be. She had no control over anything.

  Taylor turned on the sink and was pleased that water came out.

  She still felt nauseous from the car ride, and she washed her face in the cold water. Then she went and lay on her bed, looking up at the ceiling.

  She wasn’t sure what time it was. She wasn’t even sure what day it was. Mrs. Shaw would be furious with her for missing cheer. Taylor shook her head. Had she not been so afraid, she would have laughed at the thought. If only Mrs. Shaw was the worst of her worries. Besides, everyone would know by now that she had been abducted.

  They had to, didn’t they? Her friends would be calling each other, they’d organize search parties. Wouldn’t they?

  She thought of how worried her parents must be. Just a few days earlier they had scolded her for being gone from home too much.

  The argument had ended with her slamming her bedroom door. She regretted how she had acted. She’d give up everything she had to be home right now. Even cheerleading.

  As Taylor lay on top of the bed thinking, she heard a quick burst of air followed by a sharp metallic click. Her door opened. Nichelle stepped inside, a tall man in a suit and tie behind her. He wore over-sized black-rimmed glasses with dark lenses that concealed his eyes, similar to the glasses the doctor had put on during her tests.

  “Sit up,” Nichelle barked.

  Taylor sat up on the bed. The man walked to the center of the room. “Hello, Taylor,” he said. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  Taylor stared at him, her heart pounding loudly with fear.

  “He said ‘hello,’” Nichelle said. A sharp piercing scream entered Taylor’s head.

  Taylor grabbed her ears and let out a small scream. “Stop!”

  “Stop it,” the man said sharply to Nichelle. “Go.”

  Nichelle frowned. “Yes, sir.” She walked out of the room without looking at Taylor.

  “I’m sorry about that,” the man said. “Nichelle gets a bit Draco-nian.”

  “I hate her,” Taylor said. She immediately regretted this, wondering if she’d be punished.

  To her surprise, the man just nodded. “Be assured that you’re not alone in that,” he said. “Most of the students here do.” He smiled warmly. “Let’s start over. I’m Dr. Hatch. You are at the Elgen Academy. I hope your trip here wasn’t too unpleasant.”

  Taylor looked at him incredulously. “Why have you kidnapped me? You can’t hold me here. My father will find you and—”

  He raised his hand. “Your adopted father, Dean Charles Ridley of the Boise Police Department, thinks his little girl has run away. In fact you have already texted him twice today telling him how much you dislike him, and how you never intend to go home as long as he’s there.”

  Hearing this made her heart ache. Taylor began to cry. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Taylor, I’m sorry it had to begin this way. I really am. But once you see things for what they really are, I promise you won’t be upset anymore.” He stepped toward her and crouched down to look into her face. “Do you know how long I have been looking for you? You’re a very special girl. Not just because you’re a Glow, but because you have something that we can’t learn from the other Glows.”

  “What’s a Glow?”

  “That’s our term for the electric children. You all give off that faint glow. Surely you’ve noticed it.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Of course you have. Anyway, that’s why I wear these glasses.” He took them off and held them up so Taylor could see. “We invented them right here. They are especially designed to magnify that glow.

  I can spot one of you a mile away. Actually, 1.7 miles to be exact.”

  He rubbed his eyes, then he looked into her eyes and smiled. “Taylor, you’re a very special girl, and part of something that’s bigger and more excit
ing than you can imagine. We have a chance to change the world. I don’t mean slap a Band-Aid on it; I mean throw the past out and start fresh. We could create a society where everyone has enough to eat, sufficient medical care, and housing. A world where life is about personal growth and expression, not survival. No more wars.

  No more hunger. A world where all your needs are met. And you can be a part of its creation.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We are creating a world of people just like you—a race of supe-rior beings.” He let the statement ring off in the silence. “Taylor, do you know why you are electric?”

  “Because your machine didn’t work right.”

  He nodded. “Very good. Exactly. You see, some people, particu-larly some investors, saw that as a failure. But they missed the bigger vision. We discovered something much, much more valuable. You know, many of the great inventions of our day were accidents. Microwave ovens, penicillin . . .” He smiled. “Even potato chips.”

  Taylor said, “You killed all those babies.”

  Hatch stood. “I didn’t,” he said sharply. “The machine did. Ac-cidentally. Accidents with machines happen every day, don’t they?

  Let’s keep things in perspective, Taylor. During that time frame, more babies died in car accidents on the California roads than were harmed by our machine. But you don’t hear an outcry about that, do you? You don’t accuse the car salesmen or automotive engineers of being mass murderers, do you? Of course not. Accidents are the price of civilization. Blood oils social progress. Sure, it was awful, but was it worth it? Believe me, it was.” He looked carefully into her eyes to see if she was buying his argument. He decided she wasn’t. “Still, it was unfortunate. And that’s where you can help us—and help save the lives of future babies. Would you like to help save babies’ lives, Taylor?”