Gen Two- Chapter Thirty Five

My feet wore down the same repetitive walk that had now been firmly ingrained into both normal memory and muscle memory. Working in the warehouse moving boxes was somehow much more boring than working at the bookstore sitting around and doing almost nothing most of the time. Now three weeks experienced in my new 'job', I did the same thing everyone else did. A quick glance was all it took me to know where to put a box. I knew how to file the arrivals into the system, and I was proving to be one of the quickest ones at prepping the boxes meant for departure. That was because none of the other workers had a serious motivator behind them like I did with Buckeye. If I didn't work quickly and efficiently, well...

While I had gotten to know the names of the other workers, I still kept my distance. They kept theirs too. A few questions had been asked to them at the beginning about certain aspects of the job, but other than that it nothing but a 'Sorry' or 'Excuse me' if we accidentally bumped into each other on the floor. There were however, lots of awkward catches of each others' glances and just as rapid breaking of them. Case in point, the moment that was occurring then.

Nothing was happening on the floor at the moment as the next set of trucks were delayed in traffic. I was walking around for a variety of reasons. One of them was to stave off that boredom as having no one else but Buckeye to talk to made for a strong sense of loneliness and isolation. When I passed by two of the other workers, they took rather serious looks at my face, noticed I was watching them watch me, and hurriedly resumed whatever conversation they'd been having. There tones soon dropped immensely soft though, and they must have thought I was out of hearing range despite the fact that I could hear them quite well.

     "Poor kid's family must have done something seriously bad if Buck kept the father for so long and now he's treating the son like this."

     "What could they have even done though that's so bad? The kid's not that old. He probably didn't have anything to do with what happened whatsoever. I don't get what the managers are thinking making him an intern."

That was as much as I heard. I couldn't slow down my walk without making it obvious I was listening, and my current pace took me out of earshot within seconds. Hiding myself in an isolated spot behind one of the pillars then became my plan of action. It allowed me to drop my expressionless mask. It was a facade that was rapidly breaking. It truly didn't matter what I said or did in regards to interacting with my main captor. Buckeye always found an excuse to give me a lesson, or he didn't even bother to attempt to make an excuse. He simply like wailing on me on a daily basis. There was a never ending sense of worry, which went beyond the obvious fear of being hit. Each day the terror of being seriously injured grew. There had been no confirmation on his part if my stay here was temporary, and him assaulting me to death was growing more and more realistic. My chest was constantly on fire. There was at least one rib that was cracked or broken, although I suspected there was more accurately three of them, and having to lift boxes all day every day certainly didn't help the issue. Breathing was extremely difficult. All my breaths were short and shallow, my lungs felt heavy and weirdly wet, and a cough was steadily becoming a more constant companion. To top it off, Buckeye had also proven he could hide a knife incredibly well. It came out one day out of nowhere. A thick cut on my arm was the result. Kahl finally took some pity on me then when I showed up for my shift later on with a makeshift bandage crafted out of wads of toilet paper and small strands of string tied together from one of the towels I had. He fixed me up with proper bandaging and disinfectant and gave me some to slip in my pocket for use later on.

He also gave me a little plastic bag with some painkillers. Yesterday he also covertly handed me some kind of lotion that I think was supposed to help with the bruises on my face. It was hard to tell the effect given how numb my face had actually become. The skin couldn't choose between being rough or incredibly sore. The pain would shift from a tingling sting to a rough, dull thickness that almost felt like armor.

I eventually emerged from my hiding place. I could never keep out of sight of anyone else for too long. Buckeye rarely supervised the warehouse activity, but he had a distinct knack for popping by right as I was doing all the stuff he hated, such as hiding. My stroll was taken around the quieter, isolated outer rim of the floor, but I was caught off guard when I turned the corner to find someone else striding in my direction.

He was somebody I'd never seen before. Given his presence and the way he walked, it was safe to say he wasn't a manger or something of that sort. Another worker most likely. Perhaps a new hire. Then I caught a better look at his face as we went to pass by the other. He didn't drape his hair over half of his face for no good reason. His whole right cheek was covered in a mess of scars. When his eyes met mine, he didn't wrench them away like everyone else. A smile appeared on his face. A kind, sympathetic, and severely understanding one.

I caught my breath and almost stopped walking. Was this someone like me- someone also in my position? An ally? The answer wasn't given right then. The new man gave me an accepting nod, but he continued walking forward without glancing back.

It was for the best that we didn't stop to talk. Right on cue, Buckeye appeared at the top of the stairs.

     "Alright boys, we've finally got word on the damn trucks!" he announced to the floor in a booming voice, "Some dumbass driving on a half inflated tire caused a major multi-lane block on the highway! The trucks are almost through the worst of it though, so they'll be here soon enough! No one try to sneak off to the break room or anything! You all stay here. 'Cept you, Vivid! You get up here! I have a little errand for you to run!"

Dread filled my chest and heat burned my cheeks from everyone watching as I ascended towards his location. Buckeye had never had me do an errand before, and my hopes that this would be something positive weren't high.

     "I've got this letter that needs to be handed over to Fusion. You know who I'm talking about?"
     "Yeah. The orange and purple guy. Store manager, right?"
     "Exactly. You're such a good listener," Buckeye praised sarcastically, patting the most injured part of my face in fake praise in what was more a controlled slap, "He'll be in the computer office. That's room A115."
     "Which part of the building is that at?"
     "Ah, you see, that's what is going to make this into a fun game. I'm not going to tell you where it is. You'll have fifteen minutes to find it, hand Fusion the letter in this envelope, and return back here. If you're late..."

He flicked the sensitive part of my cheek before giving it one more slapping pat.

     "Well, you know. So, here's the letter, and I'm starting the timer now."

Buckeye fiddled with his watch the second the envelope was in my hand. Fear had that hand shaking. I hurriedly took off down the hallway immediately to my right.

     "Wrong way. Totally wrong way." Buckeye instantly called after me.

I stopped, hesitated, and cringed at the wicked grin on his face. Having no clue whether he was trying to trick me or tell me the truth, I continued with the original direction as I ignored his smug chuckling.

It wasn't that I had any confidence that I was right. All I knew is that the hallways led to every other hallway, and my first desire was to get out of Buckeye's sight as soon as possible. Figuring out which way to go would come afterwards. Thoughts of escaping stayed far out of my mind. There was no way I would make it out, and the repercussions of attempting such a thing shook my shoulders more than they were already shaking. Dad's scar and the scars on the face of the new man stuck clearly in my head.

It was indeed fear that had my shoulders shaking, but also my rapid breathing. As I rushed along, I dimly recalled the sort of game Candy and I played on the way to her apartment from the beach. I would peek around a corner, make sure no one else was around, and proceed to run until the next corner. My broken ribs didn't like that at all. Signs on the wall helped me begin to figure out where the room might be though, if Buckeye had actually given me the correct information. The 115 signaled the room was on the first floor, and the building like the walls in the warehouse seemed to also be labeled A through F.

Being gifted a miracle, I stumbled across a map of the first floor once I came down a set of stairs. Room A115 was thankfully marked as the computer office. My adrenaline fueled brain memorized the way there, and the quickest way to the warehouse for good measure, before my legs took me off as fast as I could manage. However, I had to slow down some as this area had a lot more people in it. Well, there weren't that many, but enough new faces to make me constantly turn my head this way and that and pray somehow they would all ignore the bruises. It was for the best that I had to walk. I don't think bursting out of breath into the office would be something Buckeye would like to hear of. Instead, I forced the deepest inhale my lungs would allow before I stepped inside. Fusion was blessedly there, but an unfamiliar all brown woman was there as well.

     "You have to see what I'm talking about though," Fusion was saying to her, "It's stuff that's out of my hands, like this accident on the highway, that's causing productivity to be so low these past months. It's seriously something like this every other day. We have also been steadily getting back to old levels the past month and a half, I'll have you know. It would help if we could get some promotions or raises in this department for once. The guys with a lot of seniority but no payoff are growing irritable."

The woman went so speak, but that was when my presence was noticed. Fusion had to take a moment to recognize me, or so it seemed. When he did, however, the expression on his face quite clearly showed he wished I hadn't walked through the door. He glanced between me and the woman, who wasn't seeing his nervousness as her attention was on me, and looked positively terrified. I thought it safe to assume that this was someone Buckeye and his other manager friends did not want to know I was here. That could only mean she was higher up than the rest of them.

     "Sorry to interrupt. I'm just popping in really quickly. Buckeye wanted me to give you this letter and then get back to the warehouse to prep for the trucks." I explained as nonchalantly as possible.
     "No worries. Thanks," Fusion took the envelope, "Tell Buck I'll be there soon myself."

I nodded at him, and I nodded at the woman while keeping my head down. Her presence could either be good news, or a meeting that would usher in my doom. Due to recent circumstances, I wasn't feeling like the universe was throwing me a lot of good favors. Sticking to what I knew, despicable though it might be, felt safer than leaping into the unknown. I went to leave. She grabbed my shoulder tightly to turn me towards her.

     "I don't know you. What exactly is your position here?" she demanded suspiciously, not shying away from looking at me and my face even though I couldn't make eye contact with her.
     "I'm a new hire. Been here a few weeks now."
     "Yes, but what position?"
     "Sorry. I'm an intern." I answered more quietly than before.
     "Intern?" she repeated in disapproval, folding her arms and casting a sideways glance at an even more sheepish and shifting Fusion, "I wasn't aware we were hiring in this department, much less hiring interns. Who brought you in?
     "Buckeye."
     "Buckeye?" she repeated in the same manner.

I was examined much more closely. When her eyes continually wandered from my injured face to my cut arm, I felt the need to say something. Anything.

     "Have a bad habit of not being able to keep my mouth shut. I prompted on a fight that was my own fault," I lied, attempting to laugh it all off, "And I got what I deserved."
      "Hmm." the woman huffed, still in immense belief.
     "The others are...um, they are waiting for me to get back." I pressed on, faltering in my words but never forgetting Buckeye's game.
     "Yes, yes, go on ahead." the woman allowed me to leave.

I flew down all the empty hallways I could, and I returned back to the warehouse with time to spare. Relief washed over me- for all of five seconds. Buckeye leaned against the wall closest to where I appeared, and the instant he caught sight of me he walked over with a merry grin that made me sick to my stomach.

     "Ten minutes and thirty seven minutes. Well done. I was not expecting you to actually make it," he spoke grandly, "That means when you have your lesson this evening after work, it'll only be ten minutes and thirty seven seconds long."
     "W-what?" I balked in absolute dread, "That's not what you said-"
     "I'm giving you this one chance, little buddy. You're talking back again. If I hear any more, I'm doubling the length. Goodness knows I could use the workout." Buckeye warned dangerously, still grinning.

My mouth closed, and my gaze glued itself to the floor. Buckeye pat me on the shoulder this time around.

     "Good. Ten minutes and thirty seven seconds it will be then. I'll have to think of exactly what we will be doing in your lesson now. That's quite longer than they usually last."

He walked away with a spring in his step. I shuffled in the opposite direction in horror. All of Buckeye's lessons were intense, but they never lasted more than a minute or two. That was what it took to exhaust him as well as turn me into a trembling mess that could barely curl up in a ball. I couldn't imagine what ten and half minutes of his violence would mean for me, and I didn't want to. It took every ounce of remaining strength to keep me from vomiting all over the floor. By the time the trucks finally arrived, a cold sweat drenched me. I threw myself into my work desperate to seek any relief from the tormenting danger lurking in the future.

Two hours passed. The exhaustion of carrying boxes distracted me somewhat. Considering whether or not to take my one afternoon bathroom break, I instead found myself being softly called after by the mysterious new guy. He had joined us in working the floor, and the other employees ignored him like they ignored me. I nervously glanced around for Buckeye, but he had gone off somewhere like normal. The new guy and I made good use of the boxes and crates to hide behind while we began whispering.

     "Looks like your Buckeye's new initiate, huh?" he reasoned, wearing the same sympathetic smile he wore before.

I glanced him up and down. I was a little suspicious of him, and I couldn't help but to be.

     "Good, you've got some sense on you," he praised, easily catching my intention, "You're already doing a lot better than I did when I first starting working."
     "And who are you?"
     "The name's Quince. I'm an intern too. Quite a long term one as well. Buckeye has had me under his grip even longer than he had your dad around."
     "How do you know whose son I am?" I questioned.
     "Buckeye has become pretty loose tongued around me. Not that he ever lets anything seriously important slip out though. He's been bragging about how he gets to mess with you now that he let your dad finish his sentence."
     "Why haven't I seen you around before if you're in the same position I'm in?"
     "Buckeye bounces me around from place to place working different jobs. He grew bored with beating me up a long time ago, but apparently not bored enough to think about allowing me to leave. I'm in a different 'store' every month."
     "And what exactly is it that you want from me?"

Quince smiled at me so proudly it was just a tad awkward.

     "You're seriously so much more keen than I was. I might have been able to get away long ago if I was more like you," he explained before leaning closer and whispering much more softly, "And getting away is the plan I want your help with."
     "How in the world do you ever think we'd be able to escape?" I asked skeptically with a frown.
     "You ever notice how Buckeye and the other managers are able to appear and disappear so suddenly?"

I had to nod.

     "There are secret hallways. You can access them through certain rooms in the building. While you can exit them alone, the real kicker is that you need two people to open the hidden doors to get into them. I discovered the passcode for one of them forever ago, but I've never had another person available to help me. Buckeye always kept your dad preoccupied during the times I worked here with him. However, now you and I have this chance at this very moment."
    "Like, right now? Are you crazy?" I balked at him.
     "The idea is perhaps crazy, but I'm not out of my mind. And, as far as I'm concerned, it's a risk I'm more than willing to take. I'm just seriously sick of that damn bastard Buckeye ruining people's lives," Quince spoke, much more serious now, while staring at me, unblinking, "There's no way you can tell me you don't want to get away. I noticed Buckeye playing that timed delivery game with you. He's done it to me plenty of times. The results of those games were how I started to get these."

He reached up and touched his scars.

     "You don't want to reach the point I have with him. Trust me."

Quince pleaded at me with his intense stare, and I broke in seconds. Make no mistake that I was terrified about the consequences if we got caught, but the consequences of my lessons with Buckeye later terrified me more. If he didn't hold back, which he rarely did, then there was a strong chance he could cause me permanent harm. That also included him accidentally killing me.

     "Won't the others tell on us?" I wondered nervously.
     "No, they'll just assume we have orders to do something that requires us to leave, especially if we go together. Buckeye has me do errands for him all the time here. They'll think you're helping me with them."
     "Alright," I exhaled shakily, "Should we just go then?"
     "Yeah. Best cover as much ground as we can before Buckeye or Kahl shows up."

And at that, we were off. My legs weighed a thousand pounds, or so it seemed, but a determination bolstered by true fear had me striding forward at an acceptable pace. Quince met me on the other side of the short wall. His word that none of the other workers would care about us proved true when almost none of them gave us a single passing glance as the two of us walked up the stairs and away from the warehouse without a single problem.

My muscles tightened in immense pain when we passed several people along the way. All of them were people I were starting to recognize as they were clearly those who did more of the paperwork than the lifting work in the building. Miraculously, none of them cared about us either. Quince and I walked, walked, and walked down the million hallways and turned their matching million corners without interruption. My voice, trapped by my fear, started to desire to come out to ask questions when we finally reached a door at the end of a short hallway.

     "This is it, but let's hang on for a moment and listen just to make sure no one's in here before we barge in." Quince suggested.

We listened, but there wasn't the slightest whisper or shadow of movement from inside.

     "Good." Quince sighed in relief.
     "So, how exactly do we open the door to these hidden hallways?"
     "There's a secret panel by the entrance door. You enter in the pass code and press the access button. The thing that makes it difficult is that you have to turn off the normal light switch in the room at the same instant when you press that access button. They've been wired so they link up that way. The hidden door will remain open until we close it behind us though, thankfully. I'll be the one to enter the code, and you can flick the switch."
     "What do we do after that? Where do we go after we're in the hallway?"
     "We try to look for an exit. Other than that, I have no idea."
     "You don't?" I replied in worry and a hint of rebuke.
     "How would I?" Quince frowned at me, "It took me years just to learn how to get into these hidden places. It's not like I've been in them before. How on earth would I know where they lead?"
     "Right. Sorry." I mumbled.
     "No worries. Just wait out here for a moment while I make sure the room is totally clear before we both go in."

Waiting outside by myself for those brief fifteen or so seconds was nerve wracking. Unfortunately, that was nothing to say of what I experienced when those seconds were up and Quince called me inside. Spotting Buckeye standing right there with arms folded and wearing an evilly delighted smile should have drained enough color out of me to turn me as white as mom had been. Quince standing comfortably behind him with his own devilish smirk strengthened my chances of passing out from pure horror.

It had been a complete lie. Quince rubbed at his 'injured' cheek, and the scars smudged to reveal they were nothing more than makeup. There was no hidden door. There were no secret hallways. Quince had tricked me into trying to escape only to take me to my captor who would use that action to terrorize me in new ways my horrified mind couldn't imagine.

Between the two options presented in the typical 'Fight or Flight' scenario, there was only the one option I could reasonably take. Buckeye surely never meant for me to be able to escape, but he, and I for that matter, underestimated the adrenaline fueled capacities of someone who had been cornered. Both Buckeye and Quince leapt at me with scathing ferocity the second the idea of escape glinted in my eye. Exactly how I had been after hearing the news Desire cried out over the phone, I entered a state of complete loss of control. My first action wasn't even to turn around. My feet dug into the ground as I launched myself backwards- narrowly avoiding the grabbing hands after me. I definitely broke several world records this time around as I flew back down the hallway. The shouts of Buckeye and Quince behind me disappeared into silence.

I was dimly aware I shoved my way past a good number of people as I sped this way and that down the hallways. Part of the trick must have been to make me disoriented if I happened to get away exactly like I'd done, because I was lost. The number of confused workers I practically pushed to the ground increased as I entered a new area before somehow finding myself back in view of the warehouse.

     "Coal, where are you going?! What's going-" Kahl called after me as I half barreled him down too.

His sentence hurriedly fizzled off, at least to my ears, as I soared around the corner to the one place I might find safety.

I seriously would have probably dashed out a door to the outside if I had found one, but my room was my lone chance at surviving the afternoon. It was open as it always was when I was outside of it, but for the first time I cursed my inability to lock it. I instead made use of my horror driven strength and speed to basically lift and drop down in front of the door the very heavy dresser in the room in a quick instant.

A few towels became my next tool as I barricaded myself in the bathroom. They were wedged under the door to make opening it more difficult, and I cursed that as the extent of what I could do. I backed up until my shoulders slammed into the wall and I dropped to the ground for the dozenth time.

Then I waited. I waited for Buckeye to pound on the door. I waited for him to blast through the defenses with unnatural ease. I waited for his infuriated face to tower over me before he mixed red with the yellow tiles on the floor. There was no belief in my mind that my body would still be functioning by the time the sun set. In some ways I was eager for it to happen. If it had to happen, might as well just get it over with, right? Perhaps I should have just let Buckeye have his way instead of delaying the inevitable. I would be free. I would get to see mom again. I would get to run around with her and Button. Grandma could come over and pinch my cheeks as many times as she wanted for all I cared, and I would play an endless game of soccer with grandpa afterwards.

The pounding on the door never came. The hours dragged by so painful slowly that I began to cry from the stress. Those tears fell and fell, and by the time they stopped still nothing had happened. The agonizing shock and fear grew bored and wandered off. I had no choice but to uncurl myself and stretch my muscles. I got a cup of water from the sink, I used the toilet, and when four or five more hours passed, which made it midnight or later, I broke down and took a long, steaming shower. The towels from under the door were snatched and made into a makeshift bed since I couldn't get myself out of the bathroom, but my energy was spent. I fell into a light sleep that granted me some semblance of peace, but certainly not as much as I hoped given how I jolted awake every time a slightly louder gust of winter wind smacked into the side of the building.

Morning came at some point. I woke, tentatively emerged from hiding to discover the sun had indeed risen, and contemplated what the hell I was supposed to do now. Why hadn't Buckeye come? Heck, why hadn't Kahl come either to see what had gone down? He knew where my room was. There was no way things were simply going to go back to the way they had been, but I couldn't understand why no one had done anything with me yet.

That was when the knock on the door came. Someone attempted to open it right afterwards, but the dresser did its job. I jumped away from it with a start, yet the voice that called to me was not one I was expecting.

     "Excuse me, can you open the door please? You have nothing to fear. I simply have a few things to discuss with you."

It was the woman who'd been in the computer office with Fusion yesterday. She sound genuine, and I didn't have much of a choice.

     "Um, yes. Just...just give me a moment." I answered back, my voice sounding so different to my ears thanks to all the strain I'd been through.

I wasn't sure if she heard me, but when there was no response I figured she had. This time around I struggled with the dresser. It was not meant to be moved and certainly not across carpet. It boggled me how I'd done it so easily before, especially because my broken ribs spread fire across my chest with new passion. I was sweaty, a bit out of breath, and slightly shaking when I finally had enough room to open the door. The woman frowned, half in confusion and the other half I think in concern, when she glanced back and forth between me in my trembling state and the dresser obviously used as a blockade.

     "U-um, what...what did you want to discuss?" I questioned softly when she didn't speak.
     "I would first like to know how long you have been here in addition to how you were hired as an intern. Don't try to give me any elusive answers like you did yesterday." she requested, although not in a cold or uncaring way.
     "I've been here for about three weeks now," I began timidly, "I was, uh, hired because, well, because I accidentally stumbled across some secret information of my father's. He was trying to piece together a mystery he suspected your organization had a hand in. Buckeye had actually caught him a long time ago and kept him here as an intern himself for ten years before letting him go. Buckeye was remotely watching our house while dad was following his instructions to delete all of his information and files. That was when I took the wrong flash drive at the wrong time."

The woman's frown grew deeper and more bitter with every word I spoke. I continued to shift before her like a young child scolded until she motioned for me to follow.

     "Come," she instructed, "I had a feeling this was a discussion that goes above my position, and I was right."

Of course, there was no way for me to say no. I took a deep breath, as much as my aching chest would allow, and followed obediently. The walk was relatively silent. The woman spoke morning greetings to others we went by, but that was it until we reached one particular door on the first floor.

     "Go ahead and wait in here until I bring the CEOs to you."
     "The CEOs? Like, as in..."
     "It is exactly what it sounds like. The two of them are in control of the organization. All of it," she looked at me with serious earnest, "Due to schedule changes, they have arrived here this morning for a surprise inspection. I came here a day ahead to prep for them."
     "I'm s-sorry, but you are...?"
     "Forgive me- my name is Challah. I am the CEOs' personal assistant," she introduced herself, her tone warmer and more welcoming, "Now, the two of them will be here shortly. Please do go in, take a seat, and make yourself comfortable. Your situation is quite out of the ordinary, so the two will have many questions. It is in your best interest to cooperate."

Without another word, Challah unlocked the door and motioned me inside. The room was a simple though slightly larger office decked in red and yellow. The red helped calm me as it was naturally familiar. I hesitated before slowly making my way to the couch in front of the desk. Challah closed the door before she took off down the hallway, and I collapsed into the cushions. I had to cover my mouth as the coughing that had been persistent the past days struck again. I heaved into the crook of my elbow, desperately tried and failed to ignore the tearing and stinging sensation of my sore ribs protesting the expulsion of air, and did somehow quell more tears threatening to fall. A bubbling of nerves tickled my chest following the dulling of the sting. The minutes that passed gave off the same impression of waiting in the principal's office, except that this was clearly much, much worse. I coughed a few more times and wondered exactly how long I would have to wait before voices suddenly echoed out from behind the door. An instant later, the door clicked open.