Read Online Furnace 3 - Death Sentence by Alexander Gordon Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alexander Gordon Smith
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him. It looked as though something had exploded from his chest, and blood pattered like rain onto the floor around the table. There was no room in this world for a boy like him – like the one I had once been. There was only space for the creature that had been born from him.
I lifted an arm and felt the tight zigzag of stitches that marked my chest. The kid had been killed so that I could live. His heart was now mine. I was finally complete, finally whole.
But even in my dream I couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite the immense layers of muscle that boundme and the stolen heart that ground against my sternum, I was now empty inside.
There was a moment when the world of my dream and that of real life seemed to overlap. I felt myself stirring, saw the wheezers peel away as I bubbled to the surface of sleep. I looked back at the body of the kid one last time, but after a single blink the murdered boy had become a stone wall and the last trace of nightmare drained from my head.
I tried to move but it felt as though I had been stabbed in the chest. Looking down, I saw that the truth wasn’t far off – my entire torso had swollen to twice its normal size, a network of scars and stitches decorating the bruised skin. My face, too, radiated pain, and all I could do was open my mouth and utter a scream, a pathetic croak that barely made it out of my mouth before tumbling unheard to the floor.
Panic gripped me, doubling the agony in my chest and stomach. I had never felt this weak, not ever. Even if I wasn’t held down by leather straps I doubted whether I could have climbed off the operating table. I was as helpless as a newborn baby, ready to be picked off by the first enemy that walked in through the door.
What if something had gone wrong? What if the wheezers had somehow injured my spine as I lay sleeping? What would happen to me now? Bait for the rats, or maybe just incinerated along with the rest of the failures.
Something moved behind me, the flap of a coat and the tail end of a dry wheeze. Oh Jesus, they were coming already. Wait , I tried to say, but this time my words were so timid even I didn’t hear them. The noise grew louder, then I felt the sting of a needle as it slid into my arm. Almost instantly the pain began to fade, the strength returning to my new body as the nectar filled me. The relief was so great I swore I could hear thunder in my head, loud enough to drown out the warden until he was standing right next to me.
‘The pain is what kills most people,’ he said, perching on the edge of the steel table. ‘Or what drives them insane. Take the rats. They couldn’t handle the pain so they lost their minds, became animals. The nectar, and the operations, they can have that effect.’
He noticed a trickle of blood that was slowly winding its way towards him. Pushing himself up, he paced around the room as he continued.
‘I was worried about your mind. You see, if you try and resist too much it’s like using a stick to barricade a door. It will only last so long before it snaps into splinters.’ He walked over, pressed a hand on my forehead. The touch released a fresh wave of pain that scoured its way down my face and torso. ‘But you seem to have survived with all your mental faculties intact. Well, the ones we wanted to keep anyway. You dreamed again while they operated on you, right?’
I was in too much pain to nod but the warden didn’t seem to be expecting an answer.
‘It will be the last one. It always is. From now onthere will be no more pain, no more nightmares. Only power. It hasn’t been an easy journey, I know that. But it will be a rewarding one.’
He walked round behind my head and I felt the topmost strap loosen. He appeared on my other side and unfastened the buckle that held my arm. Slowly and methodically he released the bonds that held me, then offered me his hand. I couldn’t look him in the eye to see what his motives were, but I knew he meant me no harm.
I lifted an arm and felt the tight zigzag of stitches that marked my chest. The kid had been killed so that I could live. His heart was now mine. I was finally complete, finally whole.
But even in my dream I couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite the immense layers of muscle that boundme and the stolen heart that ground against my sternum, I was now empty inside.
There was a moment when the world of my dream and that of real life seemed to overlap. I felt myself stirring, saw the wheezers peel away as I bubbled to the surface of sleep. I looked back at the body of the kid one last time, but after a single blink the murdered boy had become a stone wall and the last trace of nightmare drained from my head.
I tried to move but it felt as though I had been stabbed in the chest. Looking down, I saw that the truth wasn’t far off – my entire torso had swollen to twice its normal size, a network of scars and stitches decorating the bruised skin. My face, too, radiated pain, and all I could do was open my mouth and utter a scream, a pathetic croak that barely made it out of my mouth before tumbling unheard to the floor.
Panic gripped me, doubling the agony in my chest and stomach. I had never felt this weak, not ever. Even if I wasn’t held down by leather straps I doubted whether I could have climbed off the operating table. I was as helpless as a newborn baby, ready to be picked off by the first enemy that walked in through the door.
What if something had gone wrong? What if the wheezers had somehow injured my spine as I lay sleeping? What would happen to me now? Bait for the rats, or maybe just incinerated along with the rest of the failures.
Something moved behind me, the flap of a coat and the tail end of a dry wheeze. Oh Jesus, they were coming already. Wait , I tried to say, but this time my words were so timid even I didn’t hear them. The noise grew louder, then I felt the sting of a needle as it slid into my arm. Almost instantly the pain began to fade, the strength returning to my new body as the nectar filled me. The relief was so great I swore I could hear thunder in my head, loud enough to drown out the warden until he was standing right next to me.
‘The pain is what kills most people,’ he said, perching on the edge of the steel table. ‘Or what drives them insane. Take the rats. They couldn’t handle the pain so they lost their minds, became animals. The nectar, and the operations, they can have that effect.’
He noticed a trickle of blood that was slowly winding its way towards him. Pushing himself up, he paced around the room as he continued.
‘I was worried about your mind. You see, if you try and resist too much it’s like using a stick to barricade a door. It will only last so long before it snaps into splinters.’ He walked over, pressed a hand on my forehead. The touch released a fresh wave of pain that scoured its way down my face and torso. ‘But you seem to have survived with all your mental faculties intact. Well, the ones we wanted to keep anyway. You dreamed again while they operated on you, right?’
I was in too much pain to nod but the warden didn’t seem to be expecting an answer.
‘It will be the last one. It always is. From now onthere will be no more pain, no more nightmares. Only power. It hasn’t been an easy journey, I know that. But it will be a rewarding one.’
He walked round behind my head and I felt the topmost strap loosen. He appeared on my other side and unfastened the buckle that held my arm. Slowly and methodically he released the bonds that held me, then offered me his hand. I couldn’t look him in the eye to see what his motives were, but I knew he meant me no harm.
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