In The End Box Set | Books 1-3 Stevens, GJ (story books to read TXT) 📖

came with a surprise; a lungful of smoke, a great blanket blocking out everything else.

My nostrils filled, the buds on my tongue clogged. I took in more of the thick air, twisting to see all around.

My vision no longer blurred with the need to fill my urge.

I saw people. I saw the small, under-lit room, an old incandescent lamp hanging bare from the ceiling.

We were in a kind of strong room, dining chairs set around the edge, each alternating its space with white plastic crates stacked to the low ceiling.

I saw pairs of eyes on me. A small collection. Four young women huddled in lab coats in the dark room and a man sat on the floor in the corner, a laptop on his lap and a cigarette dangling from his lip.

Surprised, I felt no desire to tear their flesh. I wanted to know who they were. I wanted to get their story. I was me again.

A rush of hope warmed my insides as the soldier ushered us to seats in the corner. Dan joined me to sit meek at my side, with his head in his hands as I watched the soldier who’d found us walk away with his huge colleague pushing the door closed at his back.

Guilt pushed the hope away as I searched the room again in case I’d somehow missed Mike sitting in the corner.

The soldier came over and I smiled, forcing my public face to the surface whilst trying to hide my surprise that I could hear his words.

“Are you the woman off the tele?” he said, his accent thick with West Midlands rhythm.

I shook my head whilst hiding my pleasure that my face had not turned hideous.

“I’ve just started,” I replied. “A week ago. Graduate programme.”

He smiled, showing teeth as white as snow. I didn’t think he believed me, but I lived a few moments more to tell the tale.

“What’s going on?”

I couldn’t help saying the words and watched as, despite my low voice, two pairs of eyes glanced in my direction.

He shook his head, turning to the rest of the group as if for show, shrugging his shoulders in an overactive move to add to his point. The cigarette smoke thinned and I watched the wisps of blue air glide up into the ceiling vents.

Dan’s smell came first as he leant over, still with his head in his hands. Panic rose as new tastes soon followed. The hope had vanished as I sampled the air, thick and meaty. The soldier’s scent, I guessed.

The group of women were delicate and perfumed. I hadn’t quite got the older man’s scent until I stood next to him. Pale and gamey, like mutton.

“Have you got another?” I said, nodding towards the rectangular package on the floor. He smiled up, showing yellow teeth, his flesh strong as he breathed in my direction. I’m sure I would have found out his taste if he hadn’t flipped up the lid of the box next to him to reveal long cartons of white-boxed cigarettes.

The first draw was bliss, the taste empty, saliva retreating down my throat as my vision cleared.

The women in the huddle coughed as I passed. If they’d kept that up, I might have shown the alternative.

A cold wave of fear rushed across my face and it felt as if the blood had drained to my feet when I realised what I had just thought.

I took a long draw of the cigarette, holding my breath to make sure it filled every part of my lungs. Letting the smoke slowly escape, I pushed on a smile to the women, thankful the need to tear their eyes out had passed.

Dan had grown quiet, but flinched up, his red-ringed eyes wide with the dull knock rattling the heavy door.

Words boomed from someone new after our guard pulled up the bolt and swung open the metal with his pull.

“Five unaccounted for.”

It wasn’t the soldier who had escorted us but another. I wanted to say rescued us, but that wasn’t right. A Scouse accent hung heavy in his voice.

The right words tried to form in my head as I savoured my blank taste buds and listened to the drivel. “I had to bring her here. Watch her. She’s trouble, the brig’s overrun.”

I looked up hearing those words and knew before I saw her face in the orange light. I knew it would be her stepping through the gap.

I hadn’t guessed about the hands cuffed at her front. Hadn’t guessed at the side of her face black and blue. I hadn’t thought I’d see her swearing under her breath, the muscles in her neck tense and face fixed with anger as she kept her head low.

I stubbed the unfinished cigarette under my foot and flushed with panic as my smile dropped.

10

She wore a bright orange jump-suit, three or more sizes too large, the kind lifers wore in American jails. Her feet shuffled across the floor, restricted by manacles clipped at her ankles. What could she have done to prompt such fear of escape?

A great black hand reached my way as I stepped forward, but with all eyes on me I let myself cower back, watching her downward face as her escort led her to the opposite side of the room.

Thankful the huddled women gave her their attention, fixing their sneers in her direction, I turned my back to the four women to make sure our eyes didn’t meet as I half listened to the soldier’s chat, catching only some of their words as a bunch of keys changed hands.

Soon the new soldier left our guard to his task of pushing the metal bundle into a pouch on his utility belt.

Still, she hadn’t looked up. I wasn’t ready for her to see me.

Lighting another cigarette, I pushed away