B.I.T.E

It was 4 am. They were usually gone by 6, when they ever showed up at all, so Frank knew he couldn’t relax. But still he faltered as he walked, fatigue sometimes threatening to knock him over backwards. He had been consumed with worry, but also confusion, and also a strange kind of resignation. What if this was their plan? To tire him? To make him believe they had given up? Perhaps they really had given up and left, and he could finally rest when he needed to, finally just sleep. Frank’s eyelids were closing, and being unaware of where he was and who he was sounded so blissful. Turning back to the bench, incredibly inviting despite how evidently uncomfortable it looked, Frank took one step, but then stopped, mentally slapping himself.

He couldn’t. In the middle of nowhere, in full view of anyone half a mile away, Frank had thought it would be a good idea to just lie on the bench and go to sleep.
It was their fault. They were doing this, messing with his thoughts. Frank knew he was paranoid, they knew he was paranoid, and they were using it against him. He couldn’t sleep at night, for fear of abduction or murder. He had to sleep in the day and leave hardly any time left at all to do anything useful. His body wasn’t built for being nocturnal, unlike theirs. They were playing with this knowledge, with him, and this meant he could trust no one.

And they could be watching him.

Frank turned to survey his surroundings. Cameras – were there cameras? This small village that he’d somehow landed himself in yesterday after 48 hours with his eyes open was an excellent place to watch him from, where he was the only one they had to worry about.
Wait. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen anyone else or been woken up anytime between 9 am and 6 pm when he was finally able to rest, even if his sleep was fitful and plagued with nightmares. Usually, no matter where he was, someone drunk, kind, or just plain curious would wake him. Apparently, though, no one cared enough to even walk close enough to him that his semi-sleep, semi-alert self would feel them brush past. Where were the people?
And why hadn’t he noticed this lack of actual humans earlier?

Now Frank was starting to get worried. Something was wrong, very wrong; he’d been too tired to pay attention and notice earlier, and panic was starting to rise in his chest.
Trying to keep calm, he ventured towards the closest car. It looked new, and Frank’s expertise told him that, at most, the engine’s last use was maybe two hours ago. Wait. Two? He’d been around this area for about four hours, or at least close enough to hear the sound of a car engine in the silence of the village.

Frank shook back he fear, but the anxiety was drowning any attempts to calm down.
He turned around sharply, hoping to catch somebody – anybody – off guard, then turned back to the car. Why hadn’t he heard it?

They had found him, that was why. They knew where he was and they were coming for him. Somehow, through all his paranoia and fear, he knew he was right. He’d been caught spectacularly off guard, and they had found him.

Frank rocked back and forth on his heels. He couldn’t do this anymore. He’d been running, hiding, but that hadn’t saved him, only prolonged torture, increased his pain. He’d tried so hard, but it hadn’t been enough, and now he was going to die.

Sinking down against the car, he sat on the floor, already given up.

He was going to die.
He was going to die.
He was going to die.

He’d tried to save himself for months, but he could already feel himself slipping away. He was going to die.

Frank coughed, and drew in a ragged breath. He didn’t know any more if it was paranoia or common sense – he had stopped being able to tell the difference – that was making him like this. A few months ago, the last time a car had been used wouldn’t have been enough to signify the end of Frank’s life, or at least his ever-slackening grip on sanity. Now, however, he’d gone into shock because he hadn’t heard the engine. Why hadn’t he heard--?

His thoughts were cut off by a sound he could hear – another car that had shown up, all sleek and silver. This was their kind of thing – an authoritative kind of vanity, the kind that intimidated everyone – presently, it was terrifying him.

They were here, about to take him away. In this wide, open space, Frank suddenly felt trapped. He had a chance to run, but they were always faster than him, and he was so, so tired. He also happened to be completely paralyzed by fear, so running wouldn’t have worked out anyway. He had no way to defend himself, and attacking them didn’t seem like a very good idea.

A man stepped out of the car. Before he had a chance to even stand up straight, Frank could tell he was intimidating. With his dyed white hair (Frank wasn’t sure about dyed, actually, in this situation. At least, it didn’t look natural) and pale skin he looked like some kind of ghost. He fixed his gaze on Frank and smiled, but not out of friendliness. The man looked like a big cat ready to pounce. Frank bit into his lip, tasting the metal of his lip ring. This seemed to be the only constant thing in Frank’s life, apart from maybe a never-ending state of fear.

The man stepped forward, closing the gap between himself and Frank. Frank, so much shorter than the stranger, knew this was it. He’d be taken away, and he was powerless to stop it. As if he could read Frank’s thoughts, the man smirked.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” he grinned, eyes never leaving Frank’s. “You’re terrified. Good; you can’t run away if you’re paralyzed with fear.”

The man finally took a step back and spread his arms theatrically, looking around excitedly. He turned back to look at Frank.

“This is our place, Iero.” He continued. “It was a trap, of course, and you walked right into it. Humans are hilariously stupid! Illusions work so easily on you, and like a mouse in a mouse trap, you’ve been caught.” He laughed, watching Frank’s attempts to stand defiantly, but he could feel the fear on his face. This was hopeless. He would never be saved, never see sunlight again.

Frank searched for a name on the man’s uniform. Dr Way. Way. It didn’t seem like such a scary name, but its owner was terrifying. Frank was about to address the doctor, but couldn’t trust himself to speak without betraying more of his anxiety.

Without warning, Dr Way pushed Frank’s face against the bonnet of the car, pulling Frank’s arms out behind him. He could almost feel his tattooed arms being scrutinised. Then he felt his hands being cuffed tight, before being pulled back up, and shoved unceremoniously into the car.

It was cool inside, but a lot warmer than it had been outside. The change in temperature as the only thing Frank welcomed as he adjusted himself to sit up straight, trying to force his addled mind to form an escape plan of some kind. Before, however, he could even look at the door, it had been shut and locked.

The doctor sat in the driver’s seat, his hazel eyes scanning Frank through the rear view mirror. He smiled in what could be maybe the least friendly way Frank had ever experienced, then turned to look at the empty road. Pulling out a walkie-talkie, he muttered, “I’ve got him. ETA ten minutes.” There was a low crackle that Dr Way seemed to find satisfactory, then he dropped the device beside him and started to drive.

Dr Way and Frank stayed silent for the first eight minutes, putting Frank on edge; he wasn’t sure he could keep it up any longer. The quiet was killing him. The looks Dr Way was giving Frank had the same effect. He seemed to be taking an interest in him, and this was making Frank uncomfortable.

“Now listen, Iero,” Dr Way started, glancing again through the rear view mirror. “Once we get to the facility, you will not try to escape. The only way out is through a BITE approved body bag, and we’ve got a surplus. You’re going to obey every instruction given, otherwise exit through body bags becomes an even stronger possibility. No moving, no talking, no breathing, if you’re told not to. Is that clear?”

Frank gave a non-committal grunt. Then the car stopped so suddenly that he gasped. Dr Way kept his eyes on the road, though spoke in such a controlled, unsettling way that Frank squirmed in his seat.

“You will answer all questions verbally, Frank. Understand?” The doctor’s voice had gone from forceful to threatening.

Frank’s breathing had become faster in those few seconds, handcuffed hands clammy.

“I – yes.” Frank answered, heart hammering in his chest. He watched as Dr Way turned and gave him a wry smile, then turned back to the wheel, watching the road as he drove, almost as if Frank wasn’t even there. Frank had no idea what had just happened, or why. Dr Way’s quick changing mood had succeeded in fraying Frank’s nerves even more, and every part of his body felt wired and alert, though his eyes stung from fatigue. He wasn’t sure he could stay in a state of confusion and worry and mind games for much longer without crying or screaming.

That’s when he saw the facility -- tall and imposing, white and sinister. It towered above the car, whilst the blank gates, like something out of a horror film, had ‘B.T.E’ written in black, a stark contrast. Guards stood at the gates, watching the car pull in. Though they stood still and obedient, they looked bored; Frank doubted they even knew what went on in the facility, behind its sterile, flawless, perfect front. They’d probably never even been past the reception.

The gates opened up and Dr Way steered the car past them, into the area. Once the engine had stopped, Dr Way opened the back door, and pulled Frank out roughly, dragging him until he stood on his feet.

“Follow me.”

So they entered the buildings, Frank following. He felt like he was in one of those horror movies he used to watch in secret as a kid, the ones where the right course of action was obvious to everyone except for the characters. Frank had no idea how to fix this, how to escape, how to save himself, and there was no audience around to tell him what to do. He thought back to those guards who knew nothing of what was inside. But Frank knew. And he knew he was walking to his death.

Notes

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