Samual: The Power Project - Chapter Two

                                    

                                          
I awoke on a cold metal table, my body restrained by steel bands and an IV drip injecting a green liquid into my veins. Gradually, an intense burning sensation engulfed me, causing sweat to pour down my body and groans of discomfort to escape my lips.
Only then did I notice Garrison and my naive brother, Alexander, in the room. Although I was pleading for help, they ignored me. Mr. Wright stood nearby, studying me and jotting notes on his digital notepad. My blurry vision couldn't prevent me from observing my brother as blood dripped into tubes hanging from the ceiling.
Garrison grabbed two syringes and forcefully inserted them into my thigh, unleashing excruciating pain. My vision dimmed, and I slipped into darkness.
∆∆∆
Hours later, I gasped for air, my body aching as Alexander sat in a chair before me. An IV remained in my arm, but no liquid flowed through it. My shirt was missing, and I suddenly felt stronger. A bandaged wound marked my muscled abdomen.
I attempted to pull at my restraints again, but Alexander pushed me back, his eyes filled with misery. "It's okay. You're okay," he assured me. Reluctantly, I laid back down. Silence hung in the air until he erupted, "Samual, say something, goddamn it!" Yet his expression remained blank. I cleared my throat and spoke.
"Alex! What's going on? Why am I here? What have you done to me?" I tugged at the restraints, but Alexander forced me back against the table.
"I'm creating an army with your DNA. A super-soldier army," he revealed, adjusting his gloves and snapping them in place.
"Dad will be furious when he discovers what you did." Breaking one restraint and tearing out my IV, I unleashed my newfound strength, shattering the steel bindings. Alex jumped back in surprise before I freed my other wrist and ankles.
"Sam," Alex tried to soothe me, "I'm sorry. You would be dead if it weren't for Mr. Wright and me. I had no choice. Do you remember what happened?"
Memories flooded back: Jack McCoy, the safe room, the accident. "You're a selfish piece of shit. No wonder Dad hates you," I roared at Alex. I tore away from the table as he panicked.
"Sit down, Sammie," he demanded. But I stood tall and headed towards the door. Alex blocked my path, his sweaty palms pressing against my chest.
"You don't get to call me that, you sick psychopath," I growled. "Dad should have sent you to the military when he had the chance." Panic washed over Alexander. His face flushed with anxiety.
"I-I can't let you go, Samual," Alex stammered. We stood face to face, our breaths mingling. But determination fueled me.
"I need to go home," I asserted.
With a huff, Alex claimed, "You're safer in here than out there."
Taking a couple more steps toward him, I questioned, "Why?"
"We haven't gathered all the research yet," he admitted.
Closing the distance, I persisted, "What research?" Anger surged within me.
"Sit the bloody fuck down, Sam!" Alexander yelled.
Meeting his gaze, my anger intensified. "What project, Alexander," I growled. He remained silent. "I want to get out of here, and if you don't move out of my way, I'll make you," I threatened. Panicked, he gripped my arms with sweaty palms before finally stepping aside.
"Go left down the hallway, into the front room, and out the front access door. I'll see you at home, Sammie," he relented. I watched him retreat and swiftly charge through the hallway, crashing through an emergency exit and into the city streets.
∆∆∆
The city streets whizzed by as I dodged cars and buildings with unparalleled speed. Suddenly, I collided with an Uber car, collapsing on the ground. Horns blared as the driver pulled over.
A young man stepped out of the car and approached me, surrounded by spectators. Assessing the dent on the vehicle and my body, I realized we both seemed unharmed.
"Hey, kid. Are you alright?" he asked. Nodding, I pulled myself up, dusting off crushed concrete from my body. The man retrieved his cell phone, and within minutes, distant sirens blared.
"I hit you pretty hard, kid. You should probably stay down," he advised. Taking a seat on the curb, I listened to the approaching sirens.
"They want you to lie down so they can make sure you're stable," he explained.
I reclined against the curb as three police cars, an ambulance, and a fire truck arrived, obstructing traffic. Two officers and two paramedics approached me.
"Sam?" one of the officers asked. Though I barely recognized him, Officer Dylan's presence offered a sense of calm. "Your dad has been worried sick about you. Where the hell have you been?"
"Are Danielle and Dexter okay?" I questioned, my mind racing to the well-being of my siblings.
Dylan sighed, sending a chilling sensation through me. "They're okay. We found them before we found you," he reassured me.
"I contacted the station and informed Chief Knight that we're transporting his son to Providence," Nick, the other officer, interjected while bouncing on his feet.
Dylan nodded, assessing the bloodstains and bruises on my chest. Nick pressed against my chest, removing the bandage from my healed abdomen.
"Does anything hurt?" Nick asked. I shook my head in response. His gaze shifted to the dent in the car, and he retrieved a small flashlight.
"You're lucky. You know that," Dylan commented. As he directed the flashlight toward my eyes, I shielded them with my wrist.
"Do you remember anything about the person who took you?" Nick inquired. Thoughts of mentioning Alexander crossed my mind, but cowardice kept me silent.
"No," I replied, flinching away from the light.
"That's alright. We'll gather information from the other officers before we leave," Nick assured me, putting away the flashlight. "Now, we're going to take you to the hospital. Can you stand?" With their support, I rose to my feet, and they guided me toward the stretcher. Soon, I was loaded into the ambulance en route to the hospital.