“You’ll sleep in here. Bathroom is over there,” Gary had said and left him to a small room. There was a bed in the corner with real linens and a quilt thrown over it. Bathroom was small, with a sink and a toilet seat. He had been expecting Gary to shackle him together with the Hunters. A bed? Things had really changed.
He walked in to bathroom and decided to clean off the accumulated dust before going to bed. No use to soil linens. Water from the tap was cold, but it was clean, and there hung a small towel on the wall next to the sink. He took it and soaked it in the water. Started wiping himself clean. Something, some stray shred of memory tickled in the back of his skull. Somewhere somebody had done this to him. Towel brushing over his skin. It had felt good, sand had gotten everywhere and cool water had felt heavenly on his sun burnt skin. He knew for a fact that it was something that belonged to him, not to the man, since remembering it didn’t hurt.
He had to dunk his head to the sink to be able to wash his hair. It was a bit awkward, his instincts were screaming him to get up and watch his back, but he grit his teeth and forced himself to stay down long enough. Another towel, bigger and dry hang on the wall opposite the sink. He took it and dried off before returning to the other room. Eyed the bed warily. He had been planning to sleep on it, but now he started to have doubts. What the hell Gary was up to? Treating him like a person. Giving him all kinds of space and privileges. Well. He would learn soon. Man had been dabbling with Hunters too long. He would learn to deal with Destroyer soon enough.
Brown eyes stared at him from under a mass of shiny and long brown locks. There was no fear in those eyes. There was no fear in the way delicate hands were caressing his body, traveling over taut muscles. No fear. Instead of it there was a fire, matching with the one burning inside of him.
“Logan…”
He woke up abruptly, whisper of the dream still echoing in his head. Logan. She had called him Logan. Fortunately the man was as good as gone now. Memories still lingered, but they would fade in time. Door opening made him sit up, every nerve bristling and alert.
“You’re awake. Good. Here, I brought you some clothes. Put them on. Breakfast is ready. Your shift starts within half an hour,” Gary said, tossing him a bundle of black cloth and placing boots and small bag near the door before retreating and leaving him again to his own devices.
Uniform was made out of black denim, not much more than an overall with pockets sewn to chest and thighs. Boots were sturdy, black leather with surprisingly soft rubber soles. From the bag he found a belt, gloves and a vest made out of Kevlar.
“You better put it on. I’m not going to remove that collar of yours before I know weather I can trust you or not…” Gary said when he walked in the kitchen, dangling the vest in his hands like it was the worst insult he had faced in his life. He slipped the vest on, grimacing when he realized how much it would restrain his movements. He felt like a fucking tortoise.
There were four of them. Four dog-like creatures. Gary had given their leash to him and patted him on the back for good luck before he had walked off with two Guards. Guards kept their distance, Hunters were growling and yanking their chains and he felt like growling back to them. Instead he yanked the leash hard enough to send Hunters stumbling on their backs with startled yelps. As soon as they got back on their feet, they resumed pulling, squabbling and growling again. He had to agree with Gary. Morons.
Scorching hot sun was blazing from clear sky, slight breeze made sand pool to miniature dunes. On the left side of him he could see the camp, buzzing and swirling with life. On the right side open desert, kilometer after kilometer sand.
“What am I supposed to do?” He asked. Attack against the camp didn’t seem likely from any direction.
“We’ll catch anybody who tries to escape. Most of you dimwits understand to stay put, but there’s always few who are willing to try their luck in the desert,” Guard answered. Okay. He could do that.
Sand got everywhere. Straps of the vest were chafing, he could feel it grinding inside of his boots and rattling between his teeth. Weather was hot enough to put even Hunters down. They were slouching lazily around him. Guards looked uncomfortable in their red uniforms. They were sweating and panting.
“Over there. Go and get it. We’ll wait in here,” Guards said, sitting to the meager shadow perimeter fence offered and pointed towards a small figure far on the desert. Footprints lead from the fence to that direction.
“Oh, and in case you get some ideas… That collar of yours is filled with explosives. If it looks like you’re not planning to return, we will stop you,” Guard warned him, patting a small remote control hanging from his belt.
Hunters were alert now, tugging their chains and howling. He held the leash tight and walked. No use to run. Figure wasn’t moving anymore. He could see small drops of blood on the sand mingling with footprints. Wounded. When he got closer he could see green uniform of a Breeder, tainted with blood from the waist down. Hunters were going berserk; howling and snapping their jaws, drool dribbling in long, sticky strands from their jaws.
“No… Not anymore…” Breeder was sobbing when she heard them approaching. He took in her appearance. Beaten. Raped. Hunters were poking her with their snouts, growling and whining. Not biting. They wouldn’t bite unless he told them to.
“Lets get you back home…” He grabbed the back of her uniform and started dragging her back to the camp, over the sand. Things had really changed when somebody had the guts to lay a hand on a breeder. Back in his remembered time actions like that were punishable. Depending on how badly the Breeder was treated punishment varied from beating to death.
“I don’t want to go back…”
“Shut up. Nobody asked your opinion.”
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