Michael Vey: The Prisoner of Cell 25 (Book 1)

The van drove through the night, and Taylor slept for most of the ride, waking only when a voice came over the two-way radio up front or when the van stopped for gas. Taylor was given no food and only a bottle of water that Nichelle held for her to drink, purposely spilling a good portion of it down the front of Taylor’s shirt and jeans.

“Gross, you wet yourself,” she said.

The ride was mostly through desert until early the next morning, when they came again into city traffic.

Around 2:00 p.m. the van pulled into a driveway with a guard booth and a tall gate lined with razor wire. The driver rolled down his window and showed the guard a badge, and the gate opened. They drove around to the back of the building, where a large overhead garage door lifted, and the van pulled inside. When the overhead door had closed behind them, the men climbed out and one of them opened the side door. Nichelle stepped out, then leaned against the van, stretching her legs. “Hurry this up. I have to pee.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” one of the men said. “Just stay close.”

“What would you boys do without me?” she said. “Ain’t it awful? Can’t live with me, can’t shoot me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” one of them said.

One of the men undid the bands around Taylor’s feet and waist and pulled her forward. Taylor ducked down as she stepped out of the van to the orange-yellow painted concrete floor of the garage. She was trembling with fear, and felt like her legs might give out on her.

“Hatch says to take her into the infirmary to get checked out,” the guard at the door said to the driver.

Nichelle and one of the drivers took Taylor inside the building and down a well-lit corridor to a room at the end of the hall. The sign on the door said EXAM ROOM B. Upon their entrance, a tall woman with cropped yellow hair, thin-rimmed glasses, and wearing a white lab coat looked up from her desk.

“This is Taylor Ridley?” she asked the man.

“Yes. Sign here,” he said, thrusting out a clipboard. The woman signed the document, then handed the clipboard back to the driver. “Muchas gracias,” he said, and walked away.

The doctor looked up at Taylor. “So you’re Taylor.”

Taylor swallowed. “Yes, ma’am. Where am I?”

“I’ll ask the questions,” she said sharply. “You’re in my office. I’m Dr. Parker, the resident physician at the Elgen Academy.” The woman turned to Nichelle. “Tell Miss Ridley what will happen if she doesn’t cooperate.”

“She knows,” Nichelle said. “Don’t you?”

Taylor nodded.

The doctor walked up to Taylor and cut off her plastic cuffs with a pair of surgical scissors. Taylor rubbed her wrists.

“Thank you,” Taylor said.

“Remove your clothes,” the doctor said.

For a moment Taylor just stood there, then a sharp pain pierced her skull. “Stop! I’ll do it,” Taylor said quickly.

She undressed down to her underwear. She didn’t know if they’d make her take everything off, but she wasn’t going to until they made her. To her relief, they didn’t.

“Lay your clothes on the chair.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The doctor lifted a tablet computer from her desk. “Relax,” she said in a tone that only made Taylor more uncomfortable. “We’re just giving you a routine physical examination to see how healthy you are. Step onto the scale.”

Taylor did as she was told. The doctor checked the number on the scale and wrote on her pad. Most of what the doctor asked Taylor to do was no different than when her mother took her to her own doctor for her annual physical, with one exception. She had Taylor stand against the wall and grasp two chrome bars. Then the doctor put on a thick pair of sunglasses. “I’m going to ask Nichelle to leave for a moment,” she said. “Are you going to behave yourself? Or do I need to bring in a guard?”

“I’ll behave, ma’am,” Taylor said, looking at the ground.

She nodded to Nichelle. “Stay close.”

“Okay.” Nichelle walked out of the room.

The doctor said to Taylor, “This device tests your electrical pulse.”

Taylor remained silent as the doctor attached sensors to Taylor’s body. After a moment the doctor explained, “The electric children have a secondary pulse. Actually, it’s more like an EKG. I made Nichelle leave because she distorts the readings.”

When the doctor was done running the test, she punched a series of numbers into a machine that spit out a roll of paper. “I shouldn’t be surprised by this,” she said. “Your readings are identical to your sister’s.”

“I don’t have a sister,” Taylor said.

The doctor looked at her with a peculiar smile but said nothing. She walked to her desk and pushed the talk button on the intercom. “Nichelle, come in, please.”

Nichelle walked back into the exam room. Taylor immediately recoiled with fear.

The woman gave Taylor a thin cloth jumpsuit. “Put this on.”

Taylor stepped into it and zipped it up, noticing the plastic zipper and snaps.

“Nichelle,” the doctor said, “it’s time for Miss Ridley’s interview. Take her to her cell.”