M.A.D Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Out of the void where he slumbered, came a light, dazzling and painful. His still weary instincts tried to snuff it out, forcing his heavy eyelids down again and for a moment, he laid content with the darkness once more, the memory of the light already fading. But sharply it returned once more. How? He hadn't even opened his eyes! Amid a grunt of discomfort, he tried to evade it once more, however this time, the lids refused to close. Returning to a full slumber would be impossible now, but he certainly was not about to awake fully yet. Suddenly his left cheek started to warm. The sensation was not quite pain more like a dull alarm in his head. Next came sounds, voices, short and direct-pointed at him, he gradually became sure.
He felt the desire to make contact but not the strength. The grogginess that enveloped him, made an audible response impossible. Once more the side of his face burned, hotter this time breaching the barrier into pain. Someone had struck him! Before he could react, a strong but soft grip clamped onto his jaw and forced his aching eyes back into light his lenses continued to squirm from.
"He's awake! The words he recognised and understood. Their impact upon him caused a jolt as if he'd just missed his footing but he listened intently for the next.
"Name? A lighter voice demanded as the light was mercifully removed. He drew a deep breath, taking in a lungful of the sterile air as he tried to muster a response. Once more, there came a sharp sting on his cheek, as he was struck again.
"Name? The voice insisted. "Name, now!
Struggling with a flailing tongue, he tried desperately to communicate.
"Pl-please I don't-
"You don't understand? The voice asked. A small sense of relief formed in him as contact was finally made but his mind felt blank and struggled in its disorder.
"Very well, the voice conceded, sounding very unsympathetic to his position. "You will nod your head when you feel able to talk.
He closed his eyes and tried to sort through the mess in his foggy brain but was quickly slapped for the fourth time.
"You will not sleep! The voice barked down at him. The pain fused his senses, finally bringing them to order.
"Stop! He yelled out, fixing an angry glare upon the source of his torment. The image, though blurred somewhat was definitely female but all he could make out for sure was the dark shade of her hair. The inner drive that now spurned him to rise was quickly deflected off strong bonds that were keeping him firmly horizontal. In fact, he could hardly move the rest of his body at all. "What's going on? Who are you? He stammered, quickly adding fear to his growing bewilderment.
"I believe I have already asked for your name and you are in no position to demand mine. " The woman's response was frighteningly calm, cold even. Blinking several times helped his image of her to sharpen, allowing him to study her more clearly. Her raven hair was tied back tightly although one or two strands had escaped. Sharp green eyes were locked in silent accusation. Wherever he was, it seemed evident that he was in trouble. He searched his memory for an answer to give her but quickly realised with an even greater sense of angst, that he had no answer to give.
"I - don't know what my name is. His answer was met by an inpatient frown.
"Do you know where you are?
"No I don't. A rush of panic threatened to stricken him but he managed to swallow it down though he heard his own voice become more desperate. "Why am I tied up like this?
This time the woman gave no response just maintained her air of suspicion. He paused before his next question, to survey his other immediate surroundings, hoping something, anything, would kick-start a memory. The view was hindered somewhat by the various other figures that were crowding around. There were armed men, all attired in an identical dark uniform, just as the woman was, all were decorated only by a thin green coloured strip that ran along the side of the outfits. His mind roughly identified them as soldiers. They stood back from a small group of inquisitors that surrounded the bedded table he was strapped to. They wore long white overcoats and were not armed. There were five of these. Some were just staring; another was busy scribbling into a pad and one stood ready with the torch that had near blinded him as he awoke. Their presence served only to worry him more and he felt compelled to test the restraints.
The woman, who had been speaking, bought a solid forearm down deep into his gut. His scream of pain was muffled as the air was ripped from his lungs.
"You are a captured intruder, she said calmly as he gasped for breath. "You were caught as you lay unconscious in our transport hanger and you are being detained in a research facility around sector seven. None of her words stirred any knowledge of her extraordinary claims. "And you are tied down because we consider you highly dangerous.
"Why? He wheezed, desperate rub his aching stomach.
"Because you have just tried to destroy this installation and everyone inside it.
Hearing her words, he hoped the look he returned suggested she was crazy but despite her stern manner didn't change and she continued to maintain an icy demeanour.
"I don't know what you're talking about. He responded as honestly as he could make it sound. "And I don't know who you are or how I got here or who I am! As he heard his own tone rise, so did his fear of provoking another attack. His heart skipped a beat as his own words dawned upon him the disturbing situation he had awoken to. Yet there was truly nothing he could recall before his waking. No memory of any day at all. He felt the memories were within him somewhere but there was just no way to access them. "And you people are scaring the hell out of me! Anger flashed across the sullen woman's face and he instinctively prepared his body for another onslaught. He had meant to be as frank as possible. No matter what her thoughts of him were, he needed to assert his confused state.
After a tense few moments, her glare relented and her hard features softened a little. "If you want to stand by that statement, we can run a Headscan to check for any trauma.
"Fine. He agreed quickly. She withdrew away from him, clearly unimpressed and disappointed. Though apparently accepting his state, for the moment.
"Since you can't recall your name, she said after looking thoughtful for a moment, "I think referring to you as Prisoner X would be appropriate. However, she paused regarding him harshly once more, "If the scan shows no damage, then you are lying to me and for that, I will cause you extreme and prolonged pain, do you understand?
He didn't doubt her for an instant and nervously nodded back.
"Very well, she replied placing her hands behind her back and standing at ease. "You should know this can be a very painful procedure without the proper relaxants, Prisoner X. Do you wish to take these?
He nodded again and it produced a cruel look in her eyes. "Then it will be a pleasure to deny you them. She snapped and turned to address the nearest soldier. Take this trash to the Med bay and get him checked immediately. The soldier's response was immediate and the woman, who obviously had no intent on revealing her own name, started to march with purpose from his side. He allowed his eyes to gaze upon her athletic figure that was generously displayed by the close fitting uniform. The pleasant view was surprisingly comforting, but his fears quickly returned as his table suddenly jolted forward and he was wheeled in the opposite direction to wherever she was heading. As his view of the room started to pan outwards, he felt a slight bump at the top end of the stretcher near his head, as the soldiers who pushed it along, forced it through a set of doors leading out into a dimly lit corridor. The table's wheels squeaked loudly as his party gathered speed and he pretended to be distracted by them to avoid the angry sneers of the soldiers whose fingers looked purposely itchy around their rifle triggers. Prisoner X could only feign it for so long, until the only escape was to clamp his eyes shut again and try to delve into his mind to retrieve some sort of meaning to this nightmare he had awoken to.
What had he done? Despite his rough handling, he felt no ill will to those around him and struggled to find reason why on earth he would want them dead. He pressured his mind to think of any political or social climate in the world that might give him a theory as to his predicament. His stubborn brain continued to register only what he occasionally peeked out at, adding greatly to his ever-mounting unease.
The corridor, which occasionally branched out in various other passageways, passed through his eyes. Each scene that presented itself was replaced by another just as similar. His psyche managed to identify most of what could be seen, although his view was limited. The gloomy walkway suited the sombre faces of the assortment of figures that were forced to press against the shadowed walls as he was whisked past. Eventually his stretcher was forced through another set of doors and into a vibrant brightly lit room, which was filled with busy personnel. Most were more of the whitecoats, occupied about their business, tending to complex looking equipment or stretchers akin to his that lined around the perimeter of the large gleaming white floor. Straining his neck to look upon the occupants as he was taken past, Prisoner X could only make out the still and cold looking feet of the patients, which were otherwise covered in blood soaked sheets. Pained moans echoed around him, adding to the dull ache quickly forming in his own head. A strong burnt odour wafted thorough the sanitary air. 'Busy night', he thought to himself. His heart sank yet further as it seemed apparent that he was the cause. The steady stream of adrenalin began to give way to nausea. He attempted to unstiffen the now rigid muscles in his arms and legs. The straps didn't allow him to loosen much and a sobering anger soon began to well. In his annoyance, it suddenly appeared extremely plausible that the people around him were the bad guys and he may be the hero in all of this. However, any thoughts of heroism quickly waned at the sight of the carnage that was all around him. Suddenly he felt a concern for his own state and feverishly checked his limbs for damage. Finding none didn't convince him. He had been found unconscious after all and still felt groggy. That might very well explain his inability to remember much, his condition might only be temporary. X wished he could see his own image, even that was a mystery to him. His concern for his own well-being was promptly shifted aside as another stretcher was abruptly wheeled in next to him. X craned his next around to see who occupied it.
It appeared to be another soldier; as he wore an identical outfit to the guards accompanying him. Yet the soldier was strapped down just as he was. Prisoner X's eyes widened in revulsion as the reason for the restraints quickly became obvious. The soldier was quivering vehemently. The dark one-piece outfit was torn and charred. Some pieces of the material looked hideously fused with burnt and blistered skin. The stench made X gag as he watched captivated in the horror. The soldier shrieked out in pain through cracked lips that were scorched and smoking. The sorry figure then convulsed into a violent shudder.
"Look at her, you son of a bitch! One of the guards suddenly snarled.
Until now, X had assumed he'd been staring at the haunting image of a burnt man. Probably as there was no hair left to speak of. Upon the realisation the poor soul was female, he felt even more disgusted.
"Others didn't make it this far. The guard continued to spit at him in hatred. Prisoner X could only watch in repulsion as the apparent evidence of his alleged crimes turned to meet his shocked gaze.
The side of the soldier's face that now rested on the pillow didn't seem real at all. Black and red sores spouted where an eye seemed to have been. Her lips were partially burnt away and seemed to be running down the side of her face.
Despite the dismay he felt, it seemed impossible to look away. The injured woman's glare of rage and pain shot back at him as what was left of her quivering mouth tried to speak but produced only smoke and spits of blood.
Finally, he managed to shut his eyes and hide away from the aberration. 'This cannot be real', he told himself. Yet the woman, who had harshly greeted him as he awoke, the most distant memory he could recall, had claimed he was responsible for all this carnage.
"Will a damn Medic see to this woman? The same soldier who had cursed at him now roared across the room. There quickly came another voice, softer and feminine, advance toward them.
"Lieutenant, please. I understand your anger but we are doing all we can. the medic pleaded.
"She is smoking woman! the Lieutenant roared back at her.
"Believe it or not, Sir, others are even worse. X could clearly see the despair upon her face and doubted if that was possible. "We were unprepared for this, Lieutenant, the medic continued, clearly struggling to keep her calm. "I assure you she will be treated as soon as humanly possible we - are losing them all the time. It shouldn't be long. The Medic's voice crumbled with emotion. The Lieutenant must have sensed it too, as his demeanour calmed.
"Forgive me Doctor, but we were in the next section when the charge detonated. We saw what it did.
"Of course, she replied sympathetically and composed herself with a loud sigh. "Well, I was requested to see you by Commander Dahan. What can I do?
"This prisoner needs an immediate head scan ma'am. The moments silence confirmed how ridiculous that sounded at this point.
"Are you serious!? The medic asked. "You can see this chaos for yourself. I am needed here.
"I can see that Ma'am but the Commanders orders¦
"Are insane! You can't ask me to leave these people for.. This!
Prisoner X knew she was referring to him but decided to remain silent.
"Doctor, they are the orders. The soldier pressed more firmly. "Where do you want the prisoner?
"I am not interested where you put him! She answered defiantly.
"Very well Ma'am, I'll inform Commander Dahan you refused.
The dismayed medic let out a deep sigh.
"Very well, she conceded wearily, "but I can't be away for too long. A quick assessment is the best is can do." She gave a tired look around her ward. "I may be too late for some of these men already."
The soldiers glanced at each other, obviously regretting having to deliver their harsh order.
"Follow me please. She gestured, with a pained admittance of defeat.
X couldn't resist the sharp pangs of guilt that began stabbing at his heart. Even though he could not remember it, he had caused all this. The shame challenged his other anxieties to be his foremost tormentor. Together they all threatened to consume him.
Another jolt on his stretcher briefly dissuaded him from his despair as he was roughly steered in the doctor's direction as she led them out of the room and away from the hideous scene. Peering down the length of his body, he observed the medic, who waited so she could walk along side them. She was of slight build and wore thick black rimmed glasses that disappeared behind a bulky mane of bright auburn hair. She occasionally glanced back down at him as he was wheeled into a secluded chamber, which they entered through a pair of flimsy plastic doors. The hum of sophisticated and delicate gadgets now echoed around him.
"Just line the stretcher to these marks, he heard the doctor instruct. "What are we checking for? A soul perhaps?
"No ma'am memory loss or damage. The Lieutenant replied.
"How convenient for him, the Doctor mused. "I wish I could forget this night ever happened myself.
Prisoner X felt his face redden.
"Ok, I need you to wait outside now. She ordered after a few minutes of out of sight organising.
The other two soldiers immediately started to shuffle out, but X felt the Lieutenant's stale breath at his stooped to whisper in his ear. "I hope you do remember, you bastard. He snarled. "I want you to know why we execute you. That new dread was quickly replaced by the pounding of the soldier's gloved fist as it came down hard upon his mouth, splitting his lower lip against a tooth. "And I shall enjoy watching it. The Lieutenant then promptly spat upon the wound he had just made and followed his companions out of the room. X felt his head spin at the shot and tasted his own blood as it flowed freely around his mouth. Badly shaken, he probed the wound with his tongue and immediately felt his lip to be much larger than it should be. As he painfully tried to wipe the spittle away from the stinging cut with his top lip, he felt a light cloth save him the trouble, as the Medic cleaned the wound out for him.
"Thank you, he offered, feeling his words to be wholly inadequate. "I'm sorry you had to be taken out of there. She gave no reply. Daunted as he was, there was no surprise at her lack of response. He was finding it very easy hate himself too.
"The scan will show if you have any trauma. She finally answered almost casually. He could tell she was not used to speaking with such coldness.
"That Commander, Dahan, I think she's called, said this might hurt. He enquired gingerly.
"It would, that is why we use sedation.
"Ah, I don't think she wants me to have that. X replied humbly accepting some of his desserts.The doctor looked down upon him with a frosty stare.
"She has not heard enough screams of men tonight. The woman looked for a moment like she might start to cry, but managed to hold herself together. "Unlike you, she continued, "I don't cause suffering needlessly. Look straight please.
It was certainly difficult to try to say anything to placate the distressed woman, but he felt the need to try none the less. "I guess I deserve the pain, but I'm sure that's coming to me anyway? X reasoned, unsure what he might hope to gain from a show of humility.
"Please stop talking to me, she mumbled impatiently, "Okay, hold still while I inject sedation. The woman roughly applied alcohol to his exposed arm in preparation for the jab. He hardly noticed the needle's entry, concentrating more on the looming device that was taking position above his head, bearing down on him. Obviously the scanner. The Doctor reached up to grasp it, roughly dragging the metal arm to her desired location. He felt the heat of the strong emerald beam that settled upon his forehead, grow warmer as she bought the large gun like instrument down inches from his head.
"I shall return soon, she said on her way out. "Please do not move your head.
Prisoner X closed his eyes and waited. His body started to tingle and he felt weak as the sedative quickly started to take effect. He invited the sudden urge to sleep, figuring any dream he might have would seem tranquil compared to the nightmare he was awake in.
His forehead started to grow hotter as he sensed the scanner initiate but paid it little mind. Instead gave away his consciousness as easily as he could and immersed himself into sleep.