He tried licking his lips, but his mouth felt incredibly dry and he couldn’t figure out what was happening to him. This couldn’t be right.
His heart rate spiked, and his only thought was he couldn’t breathe. The air felt weird. Almost thicker somehow. Clara’s image swam before him until she was no longer Clara. She was gone and there was nothing but black.
Had he gone blind? No. His eyes must be closed. He was then brought back to the awareness of his body. Every nerve in his body was on fire. His brain was fully consumed by the pain. He tried to open his eyes, but the most he could manage was a twitch. He tried harder, pushing the fear aside for determination.
What happened? Where was he? Why couldn’t he open his eyes?
“Subject is waking up. Shall we administer another dose of anesthesia?”
“No, no. Let him wake up.”
“Yes sir.”
Straps rubbed across his wrists and he tried to squirm against them but they wouldn’t budge. His eyelids resisted heavily as they opened, and he blinked against the harsh light in his face.
“Dr. Nathan, do you feel it necessary to blind my subject? Please, allow him the courtesy of adjusting to the room without the surgical light directly above his irises.”
“Yes sir.”
The light was removed and when Carver opened his eyes again, everything blurred in front of them but he could see.
The bed shifted until he was brought to a sitting position. He raked his tongue across his lips, but his mouth was far too dry for it to be beneficial. He flinched at small pinches near his elbow, and tried to yank away but the straps around his wrists continued to hold firm. Instead, he could only stare as the two people in blue uniforms removed the needles.
The one on the right dabbed roughly at the blood that pooled after removing the needle, and Carver gritted his teeth to avoid cussing. “Where am I?” His voice grated out and he tried to clear his throat. The nurse on his left held up a cup of water, allowing him to swallow a couple mouthfuls unsteadily, the excess dripping down his chin.
He tried to remember before—before the blaring lights, before the straps, before the all-consuming pain. How had he ended up in a hospital? Was that even where he was? No. He wasn’t sure where he was at all.
“Mr. Vaughan, yes?”
He swallowed. The fog in his brain finally allowing him some semblance of memory. Clara. She had been in the labs. The cool metal in his hands. A gun. He allowed her to escape. He was not as fortunate. He preferred it this way.
“Who wants to know?” His voice was clearer now, but even he could hear the weakness in every word.
“My name is King Herring. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”
Carver hissed as another needle was inserted into his arm. King Herring stood in front of him, eyebrows raised. He was prematurely gray. That was the first thought Carver had. Although he was a monster, and everyone knew him to be some heinous ruler, somehow that was the first thought he could make sense of. He must be severely drugged.
King Herring could have been considered handsome. Not much older than 30. Broad shoulders, and he carried himself with all the regality and authority befitting his station. His hair hit his shoulders in a straight cascade and every single piece was gray.
“It is unwise to anger a King, Mr. Vaughan.”
“What do you want with me?”
King Herring tsked, “Now, Carver, I know you are smarter than that. Do you actually expect I will answer your questions?”
“Worth a shot,” Carver spat back.
He yanked his wrists and thrashed against the bonds, but nothing moved or gave any leeway. “Ooo, he is feisty,” the king chuckled. “That bodes well for surviving our experiments.”
Carver froze momentarily. Until that moment he was convinced his capture was his death warrant. But there were far worse fates than death. Images flashed of the creatures he and Clara had seen at the festival. Was that what was to become of him? Another creature? No longer human in the eyes of others? Someone for Clara to pity or revile?
“That got your attention.”
“I’m not an experiment.” Carver growled.
“Not. Yet.”
King Herring stepped back from the table and took a seat in a plush chair in the corner. With a single motion he ushered everyone out of the room. Carver had to awkwardly lift his head from the bed to fully see the king.
