Disclaimer:
I own nothing HL related. I earn nothing from this, ecept a tingly feeling deep inside. Please don't sue me.
Henry and Gretchen
By Chuck
His name is Henry.
He is 12 years old.
Nine days ago he, along with his sister, Gretchen, and their friend, Chuckie, had been kidnapped from a rest stop on their way home from a school field trip.
Henry laid in a small metal cell unable to move. His head throbbed from a sudden attempt to sit up. Every time he woke up, he automatically attempted to sit up and smacked his head on the ceiling that was very low and did not allow him much movement.
He had been stripped down to his underwear, and he lay on a metal slab. The slab was covered in with rough little mounds of a substance he could not identify. The slab rested on large metal rollers that were covered, along with the lower half of both sidewalls, with something that reminded Henry of runny play-dough. The air smelled like burnt bacon grease.
There was no sound in his little cell except for the rapid successions of his breath. Occasionally, if he was absolutely silent, he could hear the breathy sobs of his sister through the wall to his left. This made him feel a little better. He did not know where Chuckie was.
Henry tried to figure out where he was, but it was difficult. He remembered sitting in the grass, with the rest of his class, eating his egg salad and tomato sandwich. He remembered running through the grass with his friends, chasing each other for no reason. He remembered chasing Chuckie and Gretchen into some trees. Chuckie was laughing and screaming for Gretchen to run faster. He remembered Chuckie falling down, and Gretchen standing over him. He remembered a sharp pain is his neck.
Then he woke up here. He did not know how much time had passed, or how long he had been in here. The only pattern he had for telling time of any kind was feeding time. Twice a day the door to his cell was opened. The metal slab rolled out and he sat up. His eyes were always closed tight from the bright light in the room, and he usually had to keep them squinted while he ate. His only meal was soup. A large wooden bowl would be placed between his legs when the slab was rolled out. The soup was almost tasteless. It appeared to be a broth with vegetables cut up in it. The vegetables were undercooked, and the broth was bitter. Henry ate it anyway, happy to be eating anything at all.
This was the pattern Henry had become accustomed too. The pattern that never changed.
Until today.
Henry was sleeping soundly on the metal slab. There was very little else for him to do most of the time, so he slept. When he slept he would dream. He would dream of lying on a nice soft carpet with a glass of grape flavored Kool-Aid in one had and his favorite comic book in the other. His dog, a Saint Bernard named Buck, was curled up next to him.
Henry dream was cut short. The metal slab he was laying on began to vibrate, the air in his cell became warm, and a thumping noise was coming from the wall to his right. Mixed in with the thumping Henry thought he could hear Chuckie scream. Henry was confused. Slowly, he took his hand and reached over to touch the wall. His fingers meet with the metal and pain shot up through his hand. The wall was hot, really hot, and Henry had just burned his fingers.
Henry pulled his hand up to his mouth and began to blow on each finger, hoping to cool them down, but the air in the room had gone from warm to hot. Not only did he begin to have trouble breathing, but also any air he did manage to blow on his fingers was warm and made the pain worse.
Henry tucked his hand into his armpit, rolled on his side away from the hot wall, and tried, the best he could, to forget the pain.
Soon, the pain was forgotten, as well as his friend's screams. Henry was unconscious from the heat and dreamt of his dog.
Henry woke up to blinding light and cool air. It was feeding time. Slowly he sat up, squinted his eyes and carefully felt around for the bowl. His fingers were sore, and they hurt even more when he held the bowl to his lips. The broth tasted different this time. The bitterness was gone and it had a greasy texture to it. Henry drank it quickly. The heat had dehydrated him and the liquid was wonderful. Not only to his stomach, but he felt it in his entire body. Once the broth was gone, Henry began to devour the vegetables. His fingers dug through the bowl, shoving vegetables into his mouth. Henry bit into a piece of something new. It was thick and chewy, and tasted like fatty pork. Henry chewed it slowly. Enjoying the taste of meat in his mouth. His stomach cramped, unused to meat, but after a while it was just as happy.
Henry lay back, waited for the bowl to be taken, and the slab to be rolled back. His stomach was full and soon Henry drifted of to sleep.
Many feedings had passed since Henry hand had been burned. The swelling on his fingers had gone down, and the pain had vanished. Tiny blisters that had formed dried up and peeled off in little sheets of dead skin. Henry could move his hand without pain. This was a welcome change. For a time, he could not even lay his hand on his chest or the pain would drive off the sleep. Sleep was important to him. It was his only escape.
Very rarely were his escapes interrupted, especially by what sounded like explosions.
Henry Eyes darted open when he heard the sound tear through his little cell. His ears rang from the vibrations being tossed through his tiny, metal home.
Light seared his eyes when the metal door to his cell was flung open. Henry thought to himself that it couldn't be feeding time already. He could still, almost, taste the meat from his last meal. It would be long after the taste had disappeared from his mouth that he would be fed again.
Henry closed his eyes and waited for his slab to be rolled out. Instead, he felt a large hand reach into his cell, grab his leg, and jerk him out into the light.
Henry tried to look at the person who had grabbed him, but the light was too bright. All he could make out, through squinted eyes was his short brown hair. Henry was held tight into a hug; his head rested firmly on the shoulder of the person.
Henry knew that it was a man who held him. Every time he inhaled, Sharp bitter cologne was all he smelled. It was a comforting smell. His father wore the same scent. This realization cause Henry to instinctually return this mans embrace.
"Believe me now, Nick?" Henry heard a woman's voice behind him.
The man did not answer. He lowered Henry down onto his knee and stared into his face. The pain in his eyes was apparent, even to Henry.
He asked Henry all kinds of questions and Henry simply nodded out answers. It had been so long since the last time that he had spoken not only was he too overwhelmed with emotion, he thought that he might not remember how.
Henry looked around the room. His eyes had begun to adjust to the light and he was able to see. The room looked like a kitchen. There was a big metal refrigerator to his left, A large oven behind him, and a small table with four chairs right in front of him. Two of the chairs at the table were occupied.
Sittings in the chairs were two life size dolls. Henry remembered having a doll like this, only smaller, when he was younger. It was a gift from his grandmother. She called it a Rag Doll. The rag dolls were propped up at the table, and fully dressed in Henry and Gretchen's clothes.
Henry became worried when he saw the doll with Gretchen's clothes. Where was his little sister?
Frantically, he looked around and saw her. The woman, whose voice he had heard, was lowering her out of one of the stoves. Henry saw her, pushed up from the man who was holding him, and ran to her. He gave her the biggest hug he ever had and never felt so glad to see his little sister in his life.
"Where's Chuckie?" Gretchen asked him.
Henry did not know. He stood up and scanned over the room again. His clothes were used to dress another rag doll. Only this was not sitting at the table. It was hung from the ceiling. Seven hooks were lined up on a rack, which hung to the left of the refrigerator. There were four dolls on hooks and three empty hooks.
Henry looked to the tall woman with the short blond hair as he heard the sound of one of the oven doors close. She looked to him and shook her head. Henry looked to the ground, and felt the man's hand rest on his shoulder.
The man picked Henry up in one arm and Gretchen up in the other. The man turned and faced the woman with the short blond hair.
"I did my job," he said, " now you go do yours."
The woman slid her hand behind he head and turned around. Henry could see a tiny sliver of metal appear from the inside of her coat collar.
"Amanda." The man said in a harsh tone.
The woman's hand stopped, and she turned to face him. A blank expression filled he face.
"Please be careful." The man said, this time with a softer tone of voice.
This caused the corners of her mouth to curl up into a tiny smile. She turned quickly and ran off into another room.
The man rushed them out of the kitchen, assured them that they would be fine, and took them outside. He helped them both into the back seat of a car, and helped them with their seat belts.
As the man drove away, Henry craned his head back to see the house they had just come out of. In the distance, he thought he could see lightning crash through a window in one of the upstairs rooms.
Henry turned around in his seat and relaxed. His breathing deepened. Soon, he dozed off into a peaceful sleep.
From that day forward, Henry dreamed of lightning.
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