I have been with the Foundation for a few years now, but never in this deep. Up until now I had just been serving meals to the human test subjects. It felt like serving meals to prisoners – and some of them were death row prisoners who wanted the Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card by agreeing to be tested on. Certainly a weird environment. The test groups were changed out on a monthly basis and I never questioned why. I assumed they all went back to their lives when the testing was done and that was that.
But where I am now is much different. I've been told this is a promotion, yet the pay is not much better and the restrictions are much tighter – this is where the real Foundation shit goes down.
“Phone or any recording devices in the box,” Marta stated bluntly as the receptionist pushed a plastic box across the counter.
I pulled my phone out of my uniform pocket, checked it one last time to see if I had any new messages, and reluctantly dropped it in the box.
“Why can't I have my phone?” I asked ignorantly.
Marta and the receptionist exchanged a look that said “this guy is stupid as fuck, isn't he?”
“Well, Jay, what you see in here cannot be seen by the outside world,” Marta explained. “One picture gets out and boom, you're dead.”
I assumed she was joking, yet the cold look in her eyes suggested she was entirely serious. The fact there were two heavily armed guards on each side of the doors leading to block three also reinforced this idea – why the hell did I take this promotion?
“Now, grab the cart and let's move,” she demanded once the receptionist cleared her for entry into the block.
Marta Anderson is an interesting woman. She'd apparently worked for the SCP Foundation since the 60s. Originally she was the only female and the only African American until the 80s. Now into her late 70s she was retiring and passing the torch onto me. However, I'm not sure if I want her torch. I certainly don't want to work here till I'm her age.
“So a nice change from your other job is that you only have to do this once a day and to fewer patrons,” she said in a way that suggested that those where the only nice things about meal delivery in block three.
Looking over the railings as we walked, block three was five stories deep seeing as it was underground. I didn't see how there were less people in this block than in the test subject area.
“Are you sure there are less people here?” I asked while comparing the amount of food in the cart to the number of rooms. “Because this block is a heck of a lot bigger than the test subject block.”
Marta scoffed.
“Nah. We only have to feed thirty-two here.” She tapped the piece of paper resting on the top of the cart. “These are all the rooms we have to deliver food to. I've memorized what rooms I serve, but I brought the list to make it easier on you.”
I still wasn't convinced. This block was far too big.
“So besides the thirty-two rooms we go to, are the rest of the rooms empty?”
She laughed.
“No, but some of these… things don't need food like you and I do.”
Things? What the hell does that mean? I thought. Was she suggesting that some of these cells had inhumane creatures in them or was she just dehumanizing the starving people in the remainder of the cells?
She stopped me in front of one room before putting a finger to her lips. I remained quiet as she went over to one door with the words ‘RM550 SCP173' inscribed on a plaque. She knocked once before moving back towards me with a cheeky smile on her face.
I froze when I heard the sound of concrete grinding against concrete coming from inside the room as something moved its way closer to the door. It appeared to stop just at the door and remain motionless. I turned to Marta with a confused, but mostly terrified, expression.
“Some of these things don't need food,” she whispered. “Whatever's in there is not human. Hell, I don't even think it's organic.”
“Do you know what's in there?” I asked in an equally quiet tone, afraid to speak loudly in the presence of the concrete creature on the other side of the door.
She shook her head. Funny, all these years and yet she had no clue what was in there. On mutual agreement we got away from that room as quickly as possible.
“So tell me where our room is,” she requested. Of course she knew where we had to go first, but she was training me.
“Err, it says ‘RM474' so I assume that's the seventy-fourth room on the next floor down?”
“Yeap.”
We took the elevator down to fourth floor. It, along with the stairwell, was only accessible with the Foundation key cards so I was going to be so fucked if I lost it.
“So are most of these… things dangerous?” I muttered to Marta as we headed for room 474.
“Yeap.”
“Including the ones we're giving food to?”
“Yeap.”
“But they're well-contained, right?”
“Yeap.”
“Have you ever been attacked by one?”
Marta glanced toward the ceiling as she thought.
“I've come close with a few. One time a scrawny thing with sharp fingernails tried to get me through the food port when I opened it. I had a pretty nasty cut on my hand afterwards.” She then glanced at the walkie-talkie attached to the tray to make sure it wasn't on. “The most recent injury I've gotten was actually at the hands of a security guard who pushed me out of the way when there was a containment breach. Something down on the first floor got loose and I was in the middle of my run when the guards came flooding in. I got thrown against a wall and injured my shoulder.”
I inhaled deeply. Those would not be fun injuries to suffer through, but they assured me that this job wasn't as dangerous as it sounded if a scratch and a shoulder injury were the only major damages she suffered in all her years of working here.
My very first time delivering food in block three was incredibly unspectacular. I opened the food port, slid the tray in, closed the food port and that was it. I didn't even get to see what was inside – but that was probably for the best.
“So when do we collect the trays?” I asked.
Marta shook her head.
“We don't. They get collected at the end of the month by cleaners. Well, what's left of them.”
“Oh.”
I had the same experience with the next thirty cells as I did with room 474. However, halfway through the process a bloodcurdling screech echoed through the block from an unknown source. I was scared shitless, but Marta shrugged it off. She was used to it in all the years she had worked here. I realized this job was going to be far more terrifying when I was doing it by myself.
“Now, this final room is a little different,” she warned me. “It used to be a security office, but before block four was finished last year the Foundation was running low on space so they renovated this office and changed it into a cell.”
“So how does that affect the serving process?”
“You have to go into the room.”
My heart skipped a beat. No. There was no way in hell I was going to do that.
Marta saw the anxiety spreading across my face.
“Don't worry, this thing's harmless providing you're a good fairy and don't kiss it,” she said in a mocking manner followed by a chuckle.
Oh my god, I haven't been called a fairy since junior high, I realized. I was a little taken back by her slur, but I decided to excuse it due to the fact that she was old and old people talked that way – my relatives were much worse.
“Excuse you,” I scoffed. “What makes you think I'm gay?”
“I saw the picture of your boyfriend when you were fumbling around with your phone,” she said smugly.
As much as I wish Ryan Gosling was my boyfriend, he is not, I thought, but didn't say because there was no use opposing her claim. She was old and would be gone by week's end. But seriously, I doubt there's anything in this block I'd want to touch even with a ten foot pole.
When we reached room 217 Marta briefed me about the different procedure that went with this room.
“So with this one there's a red line down the middle of the room with a red square coming off of it. Do not step over this line. Just slide the tray into the red square and then go.”
That sounded simple enough, but I was still worried about what was waiting for me in this room.
I waved my key card over the sensor to unlock the door. Taking a deep breath, I opened it and stepped in with the tray.
To my surprise, there was no psychotic monster waiting to tear off my flesh and drink my blood. There were only five things in the poorly-lit rectangular room. A metal-framed cot, toilet, sink, neatly stacked food trays in the corner and a pale boy curled up on the bed. He sat up instantly with a petrified look on his face as if he was expecting someone else.
My god, I thought while gasping. This kid is young. He didn't even look old enough to start growing facial hair – or because he was blonde his stubble was invisible. What disturbed me most was the shackle around his left ankle that was attached to the wall. It kept him from being able to go past the red line.
“Hello,” he said politely even though he sounded quite scared.
“Hi,” I replied awkwardly. “I'm, um, just here to give you this,” I stated while gesturing to the tray in my hand.
He nodded with a smile. After placing the tray in the red square I stepped back. He hopped off his bed quite quickly and crawled over to the tray – he would not be able reach the tray if he was standing due to the chain. I noted how skinny he was. His grey jumpsuit was pretty baggy on him even though it was pretty small. The kid had to have no fat or muscle on his limbs.
One meal a day isn't enough for a growing kid. Hell, when I was his age I would go through eight whole meals.
I heard a “thank you” as I turned to leave. Looking back, I saw that he was smiling up at me.
“What's your name?” he asked.
I had to think for a moment. Would it be right to tell a kid locked up in a Foundation containment block my name?
First name can't hurt.
“Jay,” I replied. “Yours?”
“Danny.”
“Nice to meet you, Danny. We'll probably be seeing a lot of each other,” I said in a semi-joking manner.
He looked confused.
“What happened to Marta?”
“She's retiring.”
“Aw. Good for her.”
I nodded before swiping my key card over the sensor to leave.
“See ya tomorrow,” I said awkwardly.
“Bye.”
I slipped through the door and quickly closed the door. I was not prepared for that. I had not expected to see a poor kid being treated like an animal. What the fuck had he done to get himself in trouble with the Foundation?
“I can't do this,” I said more to myself than to Marta. “That kid is too young to be in this place.”
Marta shook her head.
“If he's in here, he's in here for a good enough reason.”
“I don't know what he could do that would land someone his age in here.”
“Whatever he did… or whatever he is, that's not your problem. You just have to feed him and avoid kissing him.”
Okay, what am I doing that makes her think I'm going to fuck anything with a penis? I thought with a displeased expression.
“I'm honestly surprised seeing lil' Danny hit you so hard,” she stated while we were in the elevator. “After all, you were working in the human test subject area. Didn't seeing all those people and knowing what was going to happen to them make you feel strange?”
I stared at her blankly. She sighed. It was clear I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Seriously, you never figured out what was going on over there?”
“People sign up to be tested on and once they're done they leave, right?”
Marta laughed pretty hard at that. Clearly I was completely wrong about the Foundation.
“Let them leave? I'll be surprised if they really let me retire,” she muttered. “If I conveniently die due to ‘mysterious circumstances' you'll know why. You don't get to leave if you know too much.”
Now I was really unsettled.
“You suggesting I shouldn't start thinking about my retirement plan?”
“Hell no.”
“Then why the fuck am I taking this job if they're going to kill me for it?”
“They rely on people as stupid as you to do the basic blue-collar work. They know you don't have a clue about what's going on here and they know you won't see it coming when you ‘retire'.”
“Can I quit now and have a clean escape?” I asked anxiously. This situation had felt so surreal for the past hour that I wasn't properly processing what she was saying.
“No. It's too late. Just stick it out and hope you get forty years under your belt. Who knows? Maybe they'll let you go at the end of all this.”
That wasn't reassuring at all.
“So if you're so sure they're gonna kill you when you retire… why are you retiring?”
She shrugged.
“I've lead a decent life. All I ask is that they take me out in the most humane way possible.”
I ran my fingers through my hair. I was either in some pretty deep shit or this woman was batshit insane – both seemed equally plausible.
“Can I run?” I asked quietly in case there were any security cameras that had sound.
“Probably not,” she said quite passively. “The Foundation has ties to basically every government in the world. They'll find you no matter how far you run. Your safest option is to play along for a few years. They might let you leave if you gain their trust.”
“Do you have the Foundation's trust?”
“Nope,” she said followed by chuckle. “You probably don't believe me, but I was actually more of a rebel in my youth. The only reason I've survived this long is because God's got an angel working overtime to keep me safe.”
Her voice was drowned out as I thought over everything.
Be real, she's an insane old lady just trying to make you paranoid. There's no way they'd kill the random guy who just does the catering.
I was about to ask her another question when she put her hand up as a gesture to tell me to shut up. We had reached the doors and it wouldn't be wise to continue this conversation among others.
“Three more days,” the receptionist reminded Marta in a cheerful manner. “What are you going to do first once you're retired?”
Marta shrugged.
“Order fast food. I haven't had it since 1963.”
The receptionist laughed before pulling out the plastic box. I grabbed my iPhone out of it before following Marta to the kitchen to return the cart.
“Same time tomorrow,” she said casually. I found that ridiculous seeing as she had just been telling me about how she was probably going to be killed.
“Uh, yeah,” I agreed.
Her hand landed on my shoulder. That was quite a reach for her based on the height difference.
“Don't lose sleep over it, Jay. By the time you're my age things will probably have changed and you'll get to retire properly.”
There wasn't much she could say now to make me feel better. I just had to keep telling myself that she was a crazy old lady who was lying.
“How long has it been since you last left this place?” I asked. It seemed weird that she had not eaten any fast food since 1963 – unless she had been joking about that.
“It's been a long time,” she said with a smile as she ran through the memories of the out-of-doors in her head.
She returned to reality pretty swiftly. Then with a quick wave, she was gone.
I was back in my room half an hour later. Usually after work I'd go to the on-site bar with my friends from my previous job. They had all been happy for me about my promotion. A few of them had even been jealous – now I was beginning to think they had nothing to be envious of.
I didn't get much sleep that night. Partly due to the things Marta had told me and partly due to the nightmares I kept having about the creatures locked away in block three.
What have I gotten myself into?
Surprisingly, the next three days were rather uneventful despite the news Marta had dumped on me. When just went through the motions of serving all the cells. I still found it difficult to serve Danny because he looked so out of place in this hellhole. Every time I saw him I was on the verge of trying to start a conversation with him, but Marta would always bang on the door and tell me to hurry up if I took too long. It was clear to me that she didn't want me to try and mingle with him. I found it hard to leave him. He looked so sad every time I turned to go.
Marta did not have much enthusiasm after she finished her final shift ever finished. I assumed that was because she was under the impression that she was going to die – whether or not she was correct was anyone's guess.
“Thanks for showing me the ropes,” I said with a smile while shaking her hand.
She looked very out of place in normal clothing while everyone else was in uniform. It had been quite a while since I had seen people dressed casually here.
“Good luck, Jay.” She squeezed my hand. “I really mean it.”
I carried her duffle bag for her out to the vehicle. It would be rude to not help an elderly lady with her bag. The car's windows were almost completely black. I went to open the trunk, but the chauffeur quickly stepped out and grabbed the duffle bag from me. The guy looked like the freaking Terminator with his sunglasses and masculine physique.
Shit, this is no regular chauffeur. I realized. No, stop freaking out. You're just being paranoid.
Watching the car drive off through the tunnel out of the parking lot, I couldn't shake the feeling that Marta hadn't been kidding. That guy was going to take her out to a field, shoot her in the head and then hide the body.
This is so fucked up.
After another sleepless night, it was finally time for me to do the meal run without Marta – who I suspected was dead by now.
“Try to relax,” the receptionist, who was now someone different, told me as I stopped by with the cart. “The things in there can smell fear.”
The sound of the doors closing behind me echoed through the whole block. I didn't see how I was ever going to get used to this place. It was so unsettling.
What would happen if there was a power out?
I cursed myself instantly for putting that thought in my head.
I tried to go through all the motions as quickly as possible. However, that led me to fumble and nearly drop a tray.
The receptionist was right about the whole fear-smelling thing. I heard an ungodly hissing sound coming from room 349 when I opened the tray port. This is why I went to the restroom before my shift – I wanted to avoid shitting myself.
It's nearly over, I reminded myself as I pushed the cart towards room 217. And this final guy is harmless.
As per usual, Danny looked quite scared when the door opened, but he calmed down when he realised it was just me.
“Who do you keep expecting to show up at the same time every day?” I asked in a joking manner as I placed the tray in the red square.
He laughed hesitantly.
“Uh, sorry, I don't really know what time it is so I'm not sure who's going to arrive when,” he explained in a timid manner.
I stood back up, but didn't turn to leave. I wasn't under as pressure to get out now that Marta wasn't demanding I hurried up.
“Who else shows up here?” I asked in a concerned manner. He was only fed once a day so who else was coming down?
“The scientist guys,” he said in a tone that suggested great fear.
“What scientists?”
“The ones who think I'm something I'm not,” he choked out. His eyes were a little watery now. “T-they think there's some sort of… thing in my body and they're trying to run tests on it. They don't believe I'm who I say I am and I don't know why. ” He lifted his blonde fringe to show a clean scar tracing his scalp and hiding behind his ears. “They ripped my fucking scalp off a-and drilled into my skull. I was awake for that!”
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “They can't do that to you. They can't torture a kid. That's just fucked up.” I dragged my hands down my face. “You're just a kid. You're fourteenish, right? That's just so wrong.”
Danny stared blankly at me.
“Actually, err, I'm eighteen.”
Despite everything, I was actually quite shocked by that revelation. I wouldn't have been surprised if he was in block three due to the fact his physical age was frozen at fourteen.
“Wow,” I stated dumbly. “Danny, I'm so sorry. I really wish I could help you get out of here, but I can't. Hell, I don't think I'll be able to get myself out here.” He nodded in understanding. “However, I want to try and make this all a little more endurable for you. You seem like a sweet kid.”
“Sweet adult,” he objected in a joking manner – I was amazed he had a sense of humor based on the circumstances.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “So if there are things you want which I can get for you without getting in trouble then just ask.” He nodded with a little smile forming on his face. “And I'll try to sneak you some extra food.” I gestured to the tray. “That's just bullshit right there. That's barely a snack.”
“Thank you,” he said softly before picking up the plastic cup and holding it up to the shitty 70s light bulb dangling above us. “Sometimes they put drugs in it,” he explained as he examined it under the light. He took a sip after coming to the conclusion it was clean.
I don't think I've ever felt this bad for someone in my entire life, I thought while watching him very slowly eat the mashed potatoes. He's eating slowly so that he tricks his stomach into thinking it's had enough, I concluded.
“Anything else you need?” I asked. It was awkward to just sit here and watch him eat.
He quickly looked up, there was a sad look in his eyes when he realised I was preparing to leave.
“C-could you tell me about your life?” he asked desperately.
This kid didn't want to be alone. I betted he only saw me and the scientists all day so I slumped against the wall in order to get settled.
“Sadly, my life is very uneventful,” I explained. “I dropped out of high school, never went to university and I've only ever left the country once to go to Canada.”
“I've been to Canada,” he said happily before taking another bite of his small meal. “My family went there to go skiing. Why did you go?”
“Skiing as well.”
“Cool.”
Our mundane conversation continued for the next ten minutes. However, I realized it was probably time for me to go before the receptionist started to get suspicious.
“I'm sorry, Danny, but I really think I should leave,” I explained while standing up.
He nodded understandingly even though is expression was that of dismay.
“Anything extra you want me to bring you tomorrow?”
He ran his fingers through his hair awkwardly.
“Uh, would you happen to have any spare pens or notepads?”
“Yeah, I'll bring you some.”
“Thank you. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
Poor kid, I thought again while closing the door. I wondered how long he would be stuck in this place. He wasn't like the other things here. He was just a normal guy who got confused for something else.
I slipped a standard Foundation notepad, pen and extra plate of mashed potatoes into the cart before making my way to the block three reception. I was probably being unfair to the other creatures I had to serve, but this kid was so different from anything else in block three. I felt like I was doing the minimum I was supposed to do by treating him like a human being.
“Here ya go,” I said while sliding the food tray along with the notepad and pen across the floor and into the red square.
Danny beamed and scrambled over to collect his gifts.
“Thank you so much,” he said enthusiastically.
“Do you like drawing?”
He blushed.
“Heh, yeah. I loved art class in school. I'm not very good, but I can try to sketch you… if you want.”
I had to think for a moment. If he was quick sketcher we weren't going to have a problem. However, if he was very precise with every detail that could take a whole hour.
“You can give it a shot,” I said casually.
He was done in five minutes. I asked to see, yet he seemed hesitant to show me.
“It's not very good,” he warned me as he flipped the notepad around.
I smiled. This kid lacked confidence even though he was an amazing artist.
“It looks great. Certainly better than how I actually look.”
He laughed and shook his head.
“No, this is terrible. You look much nicer in the flesh.”
The following few weeks followed the same cycle. I'd serve all the other things and then hang out with Danny for a bit. He was a really sweet guy which only made me feel worse that I was standing by as he suffered in here.
In fact, he was getting worse. Every day he got thinner and weaker no matter how much extra food I gave him. I assumed the tests the scientists were running on him were causing this. I felt helpless as I watched his body slowly degrade.
At the end of the month I entered his cell only to find him crumpled up on the ground sobbing uncontrollably. Disobeying the rules, I quickly set the tray down and stepped over the line. I cradled his upper body only to discover his scalp covered in blood.
“Holy fuck,” I gasped.
“They're going to kill me,” he wailed.
My eyes widened at that claim.
“What?”
He took a few long breaths so that he could speak.
“They're gonna take my brain out of my body. I'm gonna die!”
“Fuck,” I groaned. “They can't do that!”
“I don't want to die,” he blubbered. “I don't want to.”
“I know,” I hummed while rocking him back and forth.
We didn't say anything more for a long time. I chose to neglect my usual leaving time in order to try and comfort Danny.
They couldn't kill him. He was only eighteen. It was just wrong.
“P-please save me,” he begged.
His words pierced my heart like a knife. I felt sick. No matter how desperately I wanted to save him there was nothing I could do.
“I can't,” I admitted. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You have no idea how much I want to get you out of here. I'd sacrifice myself if meant you'd go free, but there's no way out.”
He cried for a little longer before he began to calm down. He leaned against my chest and stared at the ceiling – I assumed he was deep in thought.
“Do you know, err, when the scientists plan to do this?” I asked.
He sniffed before answering: “They're coming back tonight.”
“Fuck.”
He closed his eyes to try and remove himself from reality.
“Dan, is there anything you want me to do right now? If they're coming back tonight then I have to leave within three hours before it's six, but if there's any final things I can do for you… just ask.”
He sat up properly and rubbed his eyes.
“W-would you kiss me?”
I was a little surprised by that request and was conflicted about how to respond. I would be an asshole if I rejected him, but the age difference was a problem. I was a full decade older than him.
“I-I've never kissed someone.” He sighed. “And I don't want to die not knowing what it's like.”
A fair request, I thought. I would never forgive myself if I denied him his final wish.
“Okay.”
I could see a faint smile on his face through all the tears.
“Thank you. I know it's stupid, but…”
“You don't need to explain, Danny. I'd want the same thing if, uh, never mind. Yeah, let's do this.”
He was quite quick to press his forehead against mine. I sensed some of his blood was now on me, but chose to ignore that detail.
Something felt odd as he pressed his mouth against mine. His lips were unusually cold, yet I ignored that because it really didn't matter.
Something's wrong, I realised when his so-called tongue slithered into my mouth and reached the back of my throat. It then flicked upwards as it attempted to break through the roof of my throat in order to get to my brain. Fuckity fuck. This is all wrong.
At that point I began to push away from him. Opening my eyes, I was greeted by a pair of dark purple ones staring back at me.
Holy shit!
For a scrawny thing he was pretty strong. In fact he was inhumanely strong. I couldn't escape his vice grip on my shoulders and my attempts to push him away failed miserably.
“Mmmph!” was all I managed to get out as my air got blocked off. I was now choking on his tongue.
Everything went black when his tongue punctured the top of my throat and went straight for my brain. My first thought was that I had died… but if I had died then how would I have been thinking?
To my surprise, all the pain faded within a few seconds as Danny let go of me and retracted his tongue. My vision gradually returned after my brief blackout.
I was staring into my eyes.
“What the fuck?” I gasped in voice that was not my own.
I moved away from Danny and stood up. As I watched myself stand up I realized what was going on.
Holy fuck, he's in my body. This was confirmed when I looked down and saw the scrawny frame in a jumpsuit I now possessed.
“W-what?” I asked, this voice cracking due to the crying Danny had been doing earlier.
“You said you'd sacrifice yourself if it meant I'd go free,” my voice replied in a rather cocky manner.
“But I didn't mea–”
“You didn't mean it?” the monster in my body asked. It almost sounded offended. “Oh well, no take backs. See ya later, Danny.”
“No!” I screamed as he headed for the door.
Danny's former body stumbled as I tried get up. I tried to chase after my own body, but the chain around my ankle took me by surprise and Danny's body hit the floor. I was numb to the pain because my nervous system had not adjusted to the new body.
“Danny, please!” I begged as he opened the door and stepped through.
“I'm not Danny,” he replied. “My name's Jay.”
I continued to scream even after the door was closed. There was no one who could help down here.
Why did I trust him? Oh my god, I trusted him. He was a monster all along.
I screamed and cried for the following hours out of anger at my surreal situation. Three hours later Danny's body was lying on the floor covered in tears and blood.
What I have done?
Danny's heart skipped a beat when the door to the cell opened. Two men in white lab coats and a female guard poured in.
No. Fuck!
“You ready, Danny?” the black-haired scientist with a Spanish accent asked. The smile on his face suggested he was quite excited about what was coming.
“I'm not Danny!” I cried. “I-I'm Jay Owens! Danny tricked me! Please… I-I need your help.”
The red-haired scientist sighed and rolled his eyes.
“For fuck's sake, telling that same fib a hundred times doesn't make it anymore true,” he growled. “Now, are you going to be cooperative or are we going to have to use force?”
He gestured to the guard who lit up her cow-prod-like device.
“I'm not lying,” I sobbed. “Please, he's in my body.”
The black-haired man ignored my pleas and instead pulled out a key before kneeling down near me.
“Give me your ankle.”
If he unlocks you he'll take you away to be killed, I thought. He did not look pleased when I refused to obey.
“Becca,” he grumbled.
“No!” I screamed as the guard came over and jammed the cattle prod into my stomach.
My whole body jittered as electricity ran through it. I just had to lay there as the scientist removed shackle around my ankle. The whole situation felt so unreal. At no point in my life did I ever plan on swapping bodies and then having my brain removed.
I'm asleep and this is a nightmare. That is the only logical explanation, I told myself as the three Foundation workers carried me out. I was hung over the shoulders of the red-haired guy and the guard as the Spanish guy led the way.
“Please,” I mumbled groggily as I slowly regained control of Danny's mouth. “I'm not your guy.”
“I'm going to go ahead and call bullshit,” the red-head said with a scoff. “I am impressed you've been able to keep this act up for the whole fucking month, but it's over now. You don't need to pretend anymore.”
“No,” I whined. There was no way I was going to be able to convince these guys I wasn't Danny.
The receptionist didn't bat an eye as Danny's body was dragged past the counter. This was apparently a regular occurrence.
In my desperation I started to scream “please help me!” over and over again and tried to squirm away from the guard and the scientist holding me up. The guard let me drop and pulled out the cattle prod again. This time she held it on my body for longer to ensure that I didn't try any shit like that again.
The black-haired scientist led us to a small surgery room close to the test subject block. There was a full surgical team waiting around an operating table. I was dropped onto the metal slab and buckled in with the leather straps. I began to cry again. I was utterly helpless and about to die.
There was a clicking sound as a metal brace was secured around my neck in order to make sure I didn't move my head. However, just out of the corner of my eye I could see the saws, scalpels other utensils that were going to be used for this procedure.
“Please, Danny swapped bodies with me,” I tried to say, but all I did was moan. My mouth was numb from the second shock.
One of the most disturbing factors in all of his was the fact that none of the surgical staff dared to look at my face in case they made eye contact. Even the chief surgeon who was standing right above my head looked at the opposite wall rather than down. I got the feeling none of them actually wanted to be doing this, but they were probably just as trapped here as Marta and I were.
A nurse stopped next to me with a syringe in her hand. I made one last desperate attempt to communicate, yet only more gargling sounds escaped Danny's mouth as she pressed the tip of the needle into my arm and started injecting sedative into my body.
“Five seconds,” she stated coldly before moving away from the operating table.
The last thing I ever saw was the chief surgeon picking up his saw running his finger gently across the edge to test its sharpness.
I'm not Danny. I'm Jay. Somebody please help me.