What Comes Next by John Katzenbach

7

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    The girl was following her movements beneath the mask encasing her head. She had not said anything yet. Fear made some people rattle on aimlessly and helplessly, begging, pleading, reverting to infancy, while others managed a sullen doomed silence. She did not know what Number 4 would be like. She was the youngest subject they’d ever employed, which made it an adventure for Michael and her as well.
    Linda took up a position at the foot of the bed. She spoke in a flat monotone that concealed her own excitement. She did not raise her voice or emphasise any word. She remained utterly cold. She was practiced at the art of delivering threats, and equally practiced at carrying them out.
    “Do not say anything. Do not move. Do not scream or struggle. Just pay attention to everything I tell you and you will not be hurt. If you expect to live through this, you will do exactly as you are told at all times, regardless of what it is you are asked to do and what you might feel about doing it.”
    The girl on the bed stiffened and quivered but did not speak.
    “Those are the most important rules. There will be others later.”
    She paused. She half expected the girl to plead to her right at that moment. But Jennifer remained quiet.
    “From now on, your name is Number Four.”
    Linda thought she heard a small moan, muffled by the black hood. That was acceptable, even expected.
    “If you are asked a question, you must answer. Do you understand?”
    Jennifer nodded.
    “Answer!”
    “Yes,” she said rapidly, her voice gasping beneath the mask.
    Linda hesitated. She tried to imagine the panic beneath the headgear. ‘Not like high school, little girl, is it?’
    She did not say this out loud. Instead she simply continued her monotone.
    “Let me explain something, Number Four. Everything you knew about your life before has now ended. Who you were, what you wanted to be, your family, your friends – everything that was once familiar -  no longer exists. There is only this room and what happens in here.”
    Again Linda examined Jennifer’s body language, as if looking for some clue that she understood.
    “From this moment, you belong to us.”
    The girl seemed to stiffen and freeze. But she did not cry out. Others had. Number 3 in particular had battled them almost every step of the way – fighting, biting, screaming – which of course hadn’t been an altogether bad thing once Michael and she had figured out what the rules had to be, because it created a different type of drama. That was part of the adventure and part of the attraction, Linda knew. Each subject demanded a different set of rules. Each was unique from the very beginning. She could sense excited warmth coursing through her own body but she controlled it. She looked over at the girl on the bed. ‘She is listening carefully,’ Linda thought. ‘Smart girl.’
    ‘Not bad’, Linda decided right then. ‘Not bad at all. She will be special.’


Jennifer screamed inwardly, as if suddenly she could lose something within herself that reflected her terror and could travel beyond the mask, beyond the chains that confined her, past any walls and ceilings out somewhere where she might be heard. She thought that if she could just make some noise it would help her remember who she was and why she was still alive. But she did not. Outwardly, she choked back a sob and bit down hard on her lip. Everything was a question, nothing was an answer.
    She could sense the voice was moving closer. A woman? ‘Yes’ The woman in the panel truck? ‘It had to be.’
    Jennifer tried to remember what she had seen. It was nothing more that a glimpse of someone older than her but not old like her mother, wearing a black knit cap down over her hair. ‘Blond Hair.’ She pictured a leather jacket but that was all. The blow that had crashed into her face and rocked her had obscured everything else.
    “Here…” She heard the word, as if something was being offered to her, but she did not know what it was. She heard a metallic snipping sound, and she could not help herself recoiling.
    “No. Do not move.”
    Jennifer froze.
    There was an instant – and then she could feel the loose folds of her mask being pulled forward. She was still unsure what was happening but she could hear the sound of scissors.
    A piece of mask fell away. It was over her mouth. A small opening.
    “Water.”
    A plastic straw was thrust through the slit, bumping up against her lips. She was suddenly terribly thirsty, so parched that whatever was happening took a back seat to the desire to drink. She seized the straw with her tongue and lips and pulled hard. The water was brackish, with a taste she could not recognise.
    “Better?”

Copyright © 2014 John Katzenbach