Suzanne Young - The Treatment

My head is spinning, and it’s not just from where I hit it. Arthur lies unconscious several feet away. Behind him, Roger watches on, a sick smile on his lips. In his expression I can see that he has absolutely no intention of letting us leave here today. I try to get to my feet but stumble to the ground again, skinning my knee and crying out in pain. I hear a scuffle and know James is once again trying to get to me. But they’ll never let him get that close again. I sit back on the pavement and look around once more. When I find Dallas, she looks catatonic.

Her eyes are wide, unfocused; her mouth is hanging open. Her arms are still wrapped around herself as a handler restrains her, but she’s not fighting. She’s just staring at her best friend, absolutely lost in her grief. I cry for her—the only person Dallas had let herself trust again, and this is what he’s done.

Cas reads my expression and slowly, he turns to face Dallas. He tilts his head, covering his own cry at her appearance. “Let her go!” he yells out in a thick voice. “She’s not part of this. You said you only wanted the pill.”

“I’m sorry, Casanova,” Roger says, stepping over Arthur Pritchard’s unconscious body. “I’m afraid our agreement is void.” Cas swings to face him, his posture hardening. “On closer look, your friends have been deemed infected. We’ll be taking them all into custody at this time.”

“You’re not going anywhere near her, you fuck!” Cas shouts. Roger laughs, shaking his head dismissively before another handler puts his hand on Cas’s shoulder, a subtle warning to stay back.

“Oh, come now,” Roger says with a grin. “Dallas and I are old friends, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

Cas and James both start cussing at Roger, and my stomach lurches at the thought that anyone could be as sadistic as he is. I look at Dallas and freeze. She’s lifted her gaze from Cas to Roger, her lips curling, her eyes narrowing. She’s coming back to life, but as what, I’m not sure. I don’t think she’s herself. I don’t even think she’s sane.

Roger isn’t looking at Dallas, though. He glances around at the handlers, growing impatient at the scene. “Confiscate The Treatment and grab the girls. Put him in the other van.” He motions to James. “Casanova,” he adds, turning to him. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

My head and heart are throbbing. We’ve been betrayed. Cas gave us over to The Program. How could he trust them, knowing what they’ve done to us in the past? A handler comes over to help me up, and I look across the parking lot at James, finding him already watching me. His face is wet with tears, his body slumped with failure.

We didn’t make it. Once again The Program has won, and we’re about to lose everything. James glances around the parking lot, maybe checking for one last escape, but when his gaze returns to mine, I see the hopelessness in it. His left eye has started to puff up from where he must have been hit, and I can only imagine how my blood-soaked face looks.

When I’m finally to my feet, I know our time is up. We’re not even close enough to touch, close enough to talk. “Where’s the pill?” the handler asks me, patting down my pockets. I’m alarmed by his touch, and then I remember: James has The Treatment. He seems to realize the same thing at that very moment.

We can’t let The Program get their hands on the pill. They can’t have control over the ingredients. If the pill is gone, there’s still the hope that someday another brilliant scientist like Evelyn Valentine will come along and create a better one. James shrugs helplessly, as if asking if he should do it. I smile sadly, thinking it’s bittersweet. If James survives this—he’ll remember me. All of me.

The handler starts upending my pockets, roughly searching for The Treatment, but I block out his existence. There’s just me and James, our eyes locked on each other. I nod.

As the handlers are focused on me, James slips his hand into his pocket, rifling around until he brings the pill out, a flash of orange between his fingers. He pauses one quick second, before placing it on his tongue and swallowing it dry. Once it’s down, he closes his eyes, and begins to cry.

But I stop. James is safe—he’s the strongest person I know. The Treatment won’t hurt him. And as long as The Program doesn’t kill or lobotomize him, they won’t be able to steal his memories. He can fake erasure. He’s the best liar I know. “I love you,” I say when he looks at me again. He can’t actually hear me, but he reads my lips and says it back.

“She doesn’t have it,” the handler searching me calls out. Roger casts an annoyed glance in my direction before turning on Cas. “Where is it?” But Cas is staring at me, and I think he witnessed the entire exchange. He confirms my suspicions.

“It’s gone,” he says. “Thank God it’s gone.”

Roger’s confused for a moment, looking around at all of us. Ultimately The Treatment isn’t what brought him out here, no matter what deal Cas made. Roger calls for them to get James in the van, and the handlers grab his arms and start dragging his bucking body. I scream for them to stop, but I know it’s useless. My voice gives out and I can only watch as James is sedated, looking at me one last time before his eyes slide shut.

Roger tosses an amused glance at Cas and starts toward Dallas, knowing how much it would piss him off. It reminds me of how Roger was in The Program, and how he would taunt Realm by harassing me. Realm? I look toward the woods again, wondering if he’s there, watching. I won’t believe he abandoned us. He wouldn’t do that to me.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Roger asks Cas as he comes to stop in front of Dallas. She’s helpless, but she looks at him with an eerie sort of calm. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a more terrifying sight.

Cas ignores Roger’s question and tries to get Dallas’s attention. “I’m sorry,” he calls to her. “I had to stop running. I was tired, Dallas. I wanted us—you—to finally have a normal life. I’ll talk to them.” He looks around. “I’ll get you out of this. I promise.”

Roger sucks on his teeth, looking Dallas up and down and evaluating her. “Oh, don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he says to Cas. “She hates that.” He grins, and I think he’s the biggest monster I’ve ever met. But before I can imagine what horrors he has in store, Dallas reacts.

In a sudden movement she kicks out the knee of the handler behind her, spinning out of his grip and freeing her arms. She’s a whirlwind of motion, and I see the glint of the metal of her knife before I realize she’d even grabbed it from her pocket. She growls like a wild animal and slams into Roger, burying the blade to the hilt in his gut.

“I hate you!” She screams a high-pitched squeal that’s barely human. Roger is too stunned, or too hurt, to do more than double over. Dallas yanks out her knife and plunges it into his chest with both hands, before another handler tackles her to the pavement with a sick thud. Roger is wailing, rolling on his side as blood pools on the gray concrete.

Before they can take her away, Dallas stares down at Roger. His blood is halfway up her arms and splashed across her shirt. And she begins to laugh—not joyous or even maniacal. It’s unhinged. It’s crazy. She starts to pull on her dreads, yelling that she wins, she fucking wins, even as they start to drag her away.

My body shivers, my teeth chattering even though I can’t feel the cold. Arthur Pritchard is slowly waking up, but they pull me past him before he’s fully conscious. A handler snaps restraints on my wrists, claiming they’re for my protection, although really they’re for his.

A van pulls away before the others do, and I realize James was inside it. He’s gone. Dallas is gone. The handler leans me against the door of the van before taking a moment to call in the incident. Although Cas isn’t in custody, he’s led by with a handler. He pauses, glancing over apologetically. But I don’t care to hear his excuses. There’s a giant hole in my chest, leaking out the remainder of my feelings.