C-1 was a little room on the upper left side of the third floor. It was also one of the few rooms on the floor to have a door. I looked through the rectangular glass in the middle of the door on my approach and my heart leapt at what I saw. Inside I spotted Mikayla sitting at a table with a phone to her ear; there was a Pied Piper officer in the room with her, listening in on the conversation.
Another Pied Piper officer stood outside and raised a hand for me to stop my approach.
"My name was called," I said.
"Just wait a moment, you're next," said the officer.
"Can I call home?" I said.
The officer nodded. I couldn't keep the happy grin from my face. I had been feeling increasingly homesick since arriving at the facility, even more so after receiving a cold shoulder from pretty much everyone. Mikayla finished up her conversation and handed the phone over to the Pied Piper officer. She was already smiling as she left C-1.
"Hey Burgess," she said, when she saw me.
"Hey," I said.
She, like Tiffany, looked noticeably prettier. Most of the girls that were in Blain, Mikayla, and Tiffany's new friendship group seemed to be on the same page so far as improving their looks with their powers was concerned.
Surely they must be doing it intentionally, I thought. I was ninety-nine percent sure that was the case, but without asking them directly I couldn't know for sure.
"I just spoke with my grandma," Mikayla said.
"Everything okay?" I said.
"Yeah not bad," said Mikayla, "It was just nice to call home, you know?"
"I can't wait," I said.
"See ya," said Mikayla, raising a hand in goodbye as she started to head off.
"Wait," I said.
She stopped in her tracks and waited for what I had to say with a slightly amused expression.
"Is there anything going on with Tiffany?" I said, "I mean, you're all starting to look–"
"--different?" said Mikayla.
She smiled and started to giggle. I half-heartedly laughed along but then felt stupid when Mikayla stopped laughing all of a sudden. I stopped too, then she seemed to giggle in earnest as if pleased to catch me out for forcing laughter of my own.
"You know," she said, "I used to get the worst acne? Now it's all gone. And can you believe that I'm not even wearing any make-up?"
If I hadn't known about everyone here having powers I wouldn't have believed her. She, like Tiffany and the other girls in their group, had faces that looked as if they were airbrushed because they no longer had a hundred little things that might make them want to wear make-up in the first place bothering their appearance.
"You're up," said the Pied Piper officer standing by the door.
"Okay," I said, but I kept my attention on Mikayla.
"You have to be careful," I said, "People here are getting obsessed with their powers. I've felt the compulsion too. Don't get carried away with it."
"It's fine," said Mikayla, hand waving my concern, "We know what we're doing, init."
She walked backwards then turned with a swish and headed off for elsewhere. A sudden bout of rage filled me. Everyone was being so careless and stupid. Couldn't they see where all of this was headed? Clearly the more we used our powers the more compelled we felt to use them. The only way to avoid the compulsion, I learned, was from going cold turkey with it. The experience of being shot with tranquilizers and making a scene in front of the teenagers and Pied Piper officers before had been enough to shock me into not coiling again; even then it had been very difficult to avoid the temptation. Even after more than a week and a half since the incident I still felt twangs of desire to go into the coiled up state in the exercise area, but it was nothing compared to how strong the compulsion was before.
I moved into C-1 and the officer within gestured for me to sit down, so I did.
"Your mother is on hold," the officer said to me, "If you're going to speak with her you have to obey certain rules. Firstly, you cannot speak about your abnormality, or the abnormalities of anyone here."
I nodded.
"And," said the officer, "You can't mention the names of any facility staff who work here, nor can you speak of any of the mice that are here either. And you can't speak about your Meter device."
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
"Anything else?" I said, with a tinge of rudeness.
"Don't try to hint at where you think the facility is located," said the officer, "We're doing our best to keep the facility location private from the public. Understand?"
I nodded again. The officer watched me for a moment before deciding I could be trusted to use the phone. He took the call off hold and handed the smartphone over to me.
"Hello?" I said.
"Burgess!" said my Mum's voice, "Oh I'm so happy to hear your voice, we've all been so worried about you."
"I'm okay, Mum," I said. My eyes were watering with the onset of tears.
"Are you okay?" said Mum.
"Yeah, I'm–" I struggled to find the right word to describe how I really was. It didn't know how honest I wanted to be with Mum about everything that was going on. Was it a good idea to tell her things weren't going great, or to make her believe everything was fine?
"--doing great," I said, opting for the latter option.
"Are they looking after you?" said Mum.
"Yeah," I said, "Five star treatment. It's like a holiday."
"Oh," said Mum, happily, "And here I've been worried sick. The look on your face when that officer took you away, I thought I might not see you again."
"Everything's fine, Mum," I said, "How are you?"
"Just working, same old," said Mum, "Your sister's stressed with sixth form homework, and Gary's started his new job. We're all worried about you."
"Have you heard from Dad?" I said.
"He's not feeling too well," said Mum, "Has a bad cough. He's seeing a doctor about it."
Each word from my Mum made me feel that bit more guilty for allowing myself to be evacuated. Then again, the alternative was to join my friend and go into hiding. Either option would have meant distancing myself from my family. Even so, the guilt was there.
I spoke with Mum for a half hour, the conversation turning to little things like the boiler playing up again in the flat. The mundane day-to-day life back home brought on an even heavier homesickness.
I considered saying something to Mum about what was going on at the facility, to hint at there being trouble. But then again what was she going to do with that information? Mum was smart, and could be driven to get things done when she put her mind to it, but what could she do to help me in this situation? Worse, did I want to get my Mum into trouble with the Pied Piper's? No, the safest option was to leave Mum be and let her think everything was going fine.
"I'm not sure when I'll talk to you again," I said to Mum as we finished up the call, "I just want to let you know that I love you and you're in my thoughts."
"I love you too," said Mum, "Look after yourself."
We both said bye and I hung up the call and handed the phone over to the Pied Piper officer. I spotted Tiffany beyond the door on my way and passed her as she made her way in.
"Hey," she said under her breath and I said a quiet "Hey," back, then we passed like ships in the night.
I passed B-8 on my way back to B-9. It was empty but still held the lingering chill from Jay using his power. I continued on to B-9 and decided I could use a bit of extra sleep. My thoughts were on making a beeline for bed when I came to a sudden stop.
It took me a moment to understand what it was I was looking at.
George was sitting on his bed with his arms around his legs. At first I thought he might be awake but then I saw something which made my stomach tie up in knots. George no longer had a face. Where his face should have been there was just smooth skin; making him look like a store mannequin. His upper body was exposed, his skin bare to see; the upper half of his fabric overalls were tattered and torn, as if something had exploded out of them. There were at least a dozen weird slits set on boil-like lumps across his arms, upper chest, and back.
There were two particularly large slits slanted at an angle that, as far as I could tell, were being used like gills for George to breathe. For a moment I wondered if I was looking at some kind of morbid statue that only resembled George in a vague way; he wasn't moving except for the faint breathing. Something was wrong; very wrong, something deep inside me was screaming for me to turn and run the other way. I fought the urge, though I desperately wanted to give into it.
"George?" I said, softly.
One of the slits opened up on George's left shoulder. It was an eye around three times the normal size; it was half-lidded and not fixed on anything in particular as if only half-awake.
Make one wrong move and you're dead.
This thought came to me with razor sharp precision. All my years of watching movies and TV shows with horrific scenarios in them told me that sudden movements and loud noises could mean the death of me.
What I needed to do was leave and make the Pied Piper officers aware of what was happening with George. I couldn't tell what horrible thing was happening to him but I was sure it was some twisted mix of his panic attacks and his power creating the nightmarish form before me.
I attempted a very slow step backward out of B-9 only for my shoe to touch down on a pencil.
The pencil skittered away and tapped against the doorway. Another eye opened on George's left arm and the one which was already opened stirred ever more awake.
Adrenaline pumped throughout my body trying to get me to spring into action; to move. I fought against it. Now was not the time to make rash decisions. If George began to move however I wouldn't waste an instant bolting out of B-9. Bit by bit I moved as slowly as I could whilst still making some progress towards the doorway.
Then, all of a sudden, there came faint whistling. Mike's whistling. It was drawing nearer along with the sound of his heavy footsteps. More eyes on George's arm, and others across the rest of his body began to stir awake.
I made it beyond the B-9 doorway, just in time for Mike to walk into me.
"Watch where you're–" Mike began.
"--shh," I said, as loud as I dared.
"What?" said Mike, at a normal volume.
I couldn't see how Mike was reacting to me acting so strange because my eyes were fixed on George and all of the eyes which were opening up in the dark of B-9.
"Burgess what's wrong, mate?" said Mike.
"Please," I began to say, but it was too late. The thing that was once George began to scuttle down at a frightening speed down from the bed ahead of us, moving like an insect; the arms and legs moving with the arm and leg joints bent at strange angles.
It leapt toward us.