wings Blog and Journals

Both Sam and I jumped when we heard a strange cough. We looked at Dusty, who raised a hand to his mouth, continuing to cough. I watched in fear and horror as his face paled, and his eyes got red. I could see the blood vessels in his eyes breaking as he coughed harder and harder. Michael started banging on his back, trying to help him. But Dusty fell to the ground on his stomach, wheezing, and I saw blood trailing from his mouth onto the floor.

Sam grabbed him, turning him over. Dusty's face was turning to a blue-ish color. I started hyperventilating as I watched Sam trying to help Dusty. I grabbed his hand, holding it too tight as he continued to fail to breath. I blinked tears out of my eyes. Then Dusty didn't move.

"Oh my god..." I whispered, grabbing his hand. Sam looked up at me.

"CPR!" He shouted, rising to his knees as he set Dusty back on the ground, doing compressions to his chest. I slid up next to him, counting the movements then lowering my lips to Dusty's, pushing air into his throat. Sam hit me, hard.

"Check to see if his throat is empty, dumbass!" He shouted. I shook my head, unable to believe I actually forgot. I slid my fingers around in his mouth, unable to feel anything blocking air getting through, then lowered my head to his again, blowing air in. His chest rose up as I breathed into him. His lips tasted like blood. My tears fell onto his face.

"Bree." I heard my brother say. I looked up at him. He looked back wordlessly at me, tears falling from his own face, shaking his head. I raised my hand, letting two fingers fall on his neck where his pulse should be. I could feel nothing. I turned away from looking at him, standing up and slamming my fist into the mirror. I let out a long scream of anguish.

The door to our room opened, and men with guns pointed at us led the way, with doctors following after. They dragged a gurney behind them, heading straight for Dusty. I seethed, it was only their guns that kept me from lunging.

I watched with fury running through my veins as they wheeled him out of our room. That was it.

Dusty was gone.

I felt like I was walking from a very deep sleep when I opened my eyes again. I was curled on my side with one arm hand cuffed to the gurney. My body felt numb all over. I wondered how long I was asleep. When my eyes focused, I looked to the side and saw Sam. Then I proceeded to stare at him with wide eyes. His hair, which had been only a little long, was nearly down to his shoulders. I quickly grabbed my hair, looking at how long it was. It was well past my collar bone and only a couple inches above my elbow length. Then I started to scream.

Because where my breasts once were, nothing was. I was completely flat chested. Which sincerely freaked me out to the highest point of freaked out I could get. I go to sleep with size 'C' breasts, and wake up flat, it's enough to send someone over the edge. Which I currently was. The others, which included Sam, Dusty, Zoey, and Michael, all woke at the sound of my screams. They couldn't seem to figure what was freaking me out.

The door to our room opened, and several doctors walked in.

"She's getting hysterical. Are you sure she should stay in here?" One of the doctors asked. A few others were looking at me with unsure expressions.

"No, lets move them all back into 45. They've all undergone the effects of the fusion anyways. They'll be fine. They're the perfect specimens."

I was too busy hyperventilating to take any meaning into his words. Wordlessly the doctors disconnected us from all of our machines, and wheeled us down the hallways. They  unhandcuffed us and rolled us into the old room. I stayed huddled on the ground, bringing my knees up to my flat chest, breathing shakily.

"oh my god, oh my god." i kept muttering. The others came up and sat next to me. When I felt someone touch me, I shrieked, backing away. I didn't look back to see who it was. I kept my arms crossed over my chest and tried not to burst into tears or throw up.

My mind was going a million miles an hour. So many thoughts kept racing through my head. No one would want me anymore. Dusty wouldn't want me; Who wants a flat chested girl? Not just kinda flat chested, there wasn't a trace of boob anywhere on my chest. My ribcage seemed to have swelled though, making my chest seem bigger. Looking around, it was like that with everyone.

I started sobbing, pressing my knees back up to my chest and not daring to look into the face of anyone in the room. After a long minute, I heard someone say, "Wow."

I looked up, and they were all staring at me, but also looking around at one another. I couldn't understand. Then I looked above them, and saw what they meant and couldn't help but be a little awestruck too. All of our wings seemed fully matured, with long feathers. Michael's were white speckled with spots of silver and black. Sam's were deep brown with lighter brown spots. Dusty's were black with spots of gray. Zoeys were pure white. Standing up and looking in the mirror, I gasped at the sight of my own gold brown and white wings.Paired a range of nine foot to maybe twelve foot wingspan, they were in short, magnificent.

I turned back towards the others, raising my arms to cross over my chest. They all looked at me sympathetically. I just shook my head once and slid to the ground, feeling my wings graze against the wall behind me.

"Think we can fly?" I asked. The others also sat down.

"Definetly." Sam answered confidently. "Why give us wings if we can't fly?"

"You mean other than the fact that we'll look badass?" Michael asked sarcastically.

"How do we learn?" Zoey asked. "Do you think they'll teach us?"

We all thought on this for a second.

"No," Michael answered. "That's giving us an advantage and they don't want to use that. If they teach us how to fly, then next time they take us out to fight, they know we'll just fly away. They won't teach us."

Someone's hand gripped mine. I looked over at Dusty, who looked at me earnestly. He gestured for me to lean in close. He breathed into my ear, "Are we being watched?"

This thought had never occured. I felt my blood run cold. I immediatly shushed them. Then leaned towards Sam and whispered in his ear, "They might be watching. Be quiet. Don't let them hear."

The whispers were carried around quickly. Soon we were all gathered in a circle, trying to communicate through looks. It wasn't working. So we did the next best thing. We whispered.

I sat close to Dusty, feeling a shiver as our wings touched. It was a weird feeling.

"How are we going to get out?" I whispered.

The slightest shrug from his shoulders. I wondered what he was thinking. Then I crossed my arms over my chest, not wanting to know.

Him and I sat in silent while we watched the others converse quietly. I noticed that Dusty wasn't touching me. Usually when we sit this close, we hold hands. It was sad.

Then Sam leaned towards me, his whispers barely audible.

"Michael was telling me how before you fight, they take you to a shower room." I nodded. "Is there a drain on the bottom of the floor?" I nodded again. "How big is it?"

I considered this, than widened my eyes.

"Big enough for us to go through, right?" He asked. I nodded. "That's our out."

We all watched in confusion as Michael soon slumped to the floor, groaning. Our door opened, and all of our heads whipped around to look at the gun wielding doctors march into our room. They brought with them several gurneys.

"Excellent," One doctor said. He was very tall, and of a chinese descent. "They're reacting to the chemicals. They're surviving it, too!"

His glee made my stomach turn. What chemicals were we reacting to? I was inturrupted by the piercing screams of Zoey. I turned and looked at her briefly, before turning away, trying to fight the image of her wings breaking through the skin in her back, blood running down the five-year-old's back. I watched as one of the doctors and a mean looking man walked past to Zoey, picking her up and placing her face down gingerly on a gurney. They wheeled her out of the room without a word and her screams faded as she was pushed down the hall.

Michael's unconscious body was lifted into a gurney and he too was wheeled out of the room. It was apparent that Dusty and Sam were doing the same thing I was doing: Noticing there were still three extra gurneys. I looked at them impassively as the rest of the men with guns came towards us, pointing the guns just inches away from our faces. "Get up," They said. "Get on the gurney."

Like we really had a choice.

We all lied down in our gurneys, a position that was most painful and slightly awkward, and our hands were hand cuffed to the bars. I wondered idly if I was strong enough to break free, then looking at the guns pointed in our direction, I decided not to try. I stared at the lights on the ceiling passing by as we were wheeled off. I closed by eyes tightly, trying to fight the fear, trying not to give in. They would love that, wouldn't they?

My gurney stopped, and I opened my eyes to see that I was in a room much bigger than the room we once inhabited. It appeared to be much like a hospital room, only without a window or a crappy television in the corner. My wing bones were bent at an awkard angle underneath me, and with both my hands hand cuffed to the gurney it was impossible to shift around so I could be more comfortable. I saw Michael asleep on the far side of the room, only one of his hands handcuffed as he was curled on his side. Given the pain, I couldn't help but be jealous.

I figured Zoey was in surgery as they stitched the skin around her new wing bones to stop the bleeding. I hoped she didn't die. That would give me enough blind fury to last a lifetime. I looked to my side at the door opening to several doctors coming in with medical machines and equipment. I was nearest to the door so I was lucky enough to get the five star treatment; the kind that included plenty and wires and even an oxygen mask. Oh, goodie.

I didn't bother looking around, knowing perfectly well they were doing the same to Sam and Dusty. They would no doubt do the same to Zoey when (I didn't dare think if) she came back. I ignored the pokes of needles and tubes going into my arms. Soon enough I heard the beeping noise that was my own heart. I stared at the monitor wondering if my heart rate had changed since I had bird DNA fused into my own.

I took a deep breath, trying to relax, waiting for my back to go numb from feeling so much pain in my wing bones. I thought about the feathers that were inevitably growing.  The door opened yet again, this time an older woman came in. I watched expressionless as she took a syringe to my arm, filling me with drugs and knocking me out into a heavy dreamless sleep.

I ran a hand over the feathers, which seemed to be wrapped in a very thin skin that was similar to the face mask you have to peel off. I sighed heavily, shaking my head, unsure how to deal with this. I wanted to cry; I had those shaky breaths you get right before you burst into tears. But I was cried out. I had cried more in the last few weeks than I ever had before in my life.

So instead, I slid to my knees and escaped inside myself. I saw the faces of my family, smiling and talking to me. I saw the Instant Messenger texts of my best friend, whom I had never actually met in person. I would smile sometimes, and I felt warmer at remembering my family and friend. Then I remembered something my dad would constantly tell me.

"Pain is just weakness leaving your body."

When I finally opened my eyes, everyone was sitting down, talking quietly. There was another in our midst. A boy around my age, perhaps a few months older. He had sandy blond hair and brown eyes, and the wings had already broken through his skin, but weren't as long as Dusty's or Michaels.

"You okay?" Michael asked. I nodded wearily. I wasn't sure how long I had sat there. I stood up, groaning as my knees popped. I walked across the room to where the others were. Zoey was curled into a ball on the floor, wincing every once in a while from the pain in her shoulders.

I looked at the new guy, raising my eyebrows at him in a look that clearly said, "Who the heck are you?" He looked up at me, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. He was good looking, if you were into that whole 'surfer kid' thing. I wasn't.

"I'm Sam." He said. I narrowed my eyes. I was never good around new people, and being locked in an institution like building did nothing to improve the matters.

I sat next to Dusty, staring intently at the floor.

"She died." Sam said. I looked up at him.

"What?" I asked, glaring at him. Good for me, intimidate rather than welcome. Just like always.

"The girl with four eyes. The one you talked to. She died." He said quietly.

"Oh. Uhm. That sucks." I said. What did he expect me to do with that information? He nodded.

"What happens here?" He asked. I looked at Dusty questioningly.

"He's been telling us what he's seen in...the one room." Dusty muttered. I nodded grimly. I remembered the first room, where we had been locked in cages and starved. I knew that the place would become a symbol of my worst nightmares forever.

"They've been taking us outside and making us fight people. Then once we we're about to win, and when I say win, I mean kill, they shock us," Michael reached up to his neck and gripped his shock collar. "I mean, these aren't a fashion statement."

We fell silent as the door opened, and guns were pointed at us (again! It's like they're scared.) and a few people fastened a shock collar around Sam's neck. They left without a word.

"That didn't take long." I mumbled. Sam reached up, gripping at the collar and trying to pull.

"Like we haven't tried?" Michael asked him. Sam kept pulling, but gave up after a few minutes. He looked upset and disappointed. Just like we all felt.

"How old are you?" I asked Sam. He looked at me.

"What month is it?" He asked. I thought of swear words to use. Like I was supposed to know? "Because if it's past October, then I'm seventeen. If not, still sixteen."

We all nodded. I thought of Halloween, and wondering if my family was still going to trick or treat.

Dusty gripped my hand. I barely noticed, I was so wrapped in my own thoughts. But when I did notice, I held on tight. I wanted out of here so badly. I hated this place. As soon as I got the chance, I would take everyone, Dusty, Michael, Zoey, even Surfer Sam, and get the hell out of here.

"I feel funny." Michael suddenly said. We looked at him. He had a confused expression on his face. "Like...achey...like..light." He muttered.

Dusty swore quietly. I looked at him confused.

"Michael's the oldest. I think that's why he's always gone through these things first." He sighed heavily. "So I'm next. Then probably Sam, then you, then Zoey."

We all stepped back away from the girl, shrinking against the wall. She didn't move. We all looked at each other, our eyes wide. I took a deep breath, pushing myself away from the way and approaching the young girl. She didn't move an inch as I walked towards her. I knealed down, pressing two fingers onto her wrist. I felt her pulse, then breathed a sigh of relief. I was tempted to roll her over, but I remembered how horrible it hurt to have any pressure on my back when my wings were growing.

I turned back towards Michael and Dusty. They looked at me with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

"She's alive." I muttered. "Just knocked out, like we were."

The two of them carefully approached me, looking at the girl.

"Christ, she's just a kid." Dusty mumbled. I looked up at him.

"And what are we? Middle-aged?" I asked sarcastically. He scowled at me.

"You know what I mean. This chick is like what? six, seven?" He asked. Michael walked around to the other side of her, lifting up the medical bracelet that she wore like the rest of us. He studied it intently.

"No. Five." He said, his voice thick with fury. He looked up at me, and I could see the anger. My little brother was only five. They had taken this poor girl, who was practically still a baby, and performed these sick fucked up experiments. I felt a hate growing inside of me like I never felt before.

I felt like I was going to throw up from the anger. I stood up, raising a hand to my temple, biting my lips. I hated this place so badly. Sick sick sick.

Our door opened, more guns were pointed at us. The three conscious ones were escorted out of the room by the buildings scummiest people. Back to that yard. Back to the fenced areas. Except this time I was ready. The blood dripping from my nose had finally stopped. I reached up and ripped the brace off. My nose stinged only a little, but it was fine. I could already tell these people had no chance compared to me. I was stronger than them, and pissed off beyond belief. I thought of that little girl curled up in our room, feeling my anger magnify.

Two people, tall muscled men, came in the cell. I didn't want for the loudspeaker to tell me go. I ran towards them, screaming bloody hell.

I got to one of them first, raising a fist and slamming it into his gut. He gasped, but screamed when I kneed him as hard as I could in the crotch. He fell to the ground. I knew he was only mobilized for a second, so I turned to the other guy. He raised his fist, but I grabbed it, yanking it as I kicked him in the stomach. He bellowed in pain, holding his dislocated arm. I punched him, one, two, three times in the face, the blood from his nose getting all over my hand. I kicked him one last time for good measure.

I turned to the other one, who was already standing and punched me in the head. I fell to my knees but stood up quickly. I kneed him again in the groin, then again in his face as he leaned down gripping his crotch. He fell to a crumpled mess in the ground. I kicked him twice in the face before I started shaking as I was electrocuted. I fell to the ground, breathing heavily, feeling weak.

I was being picked up by a few people. I could smell the antiseptic on them, and it made me want to gag. Their white coats felt scratchy on my skin. I wanted to hurt them. No, more than that, the only thought I could process was kill. But I was too tired, too hungry, too weak.

I was thrown back into our room, where the people set down a tray of hot steaming food in front of me, and nearly three bottles of water. I practically inhaled the food, not thinking till after I had already wolfed down two blueberry muffins about the potential of food being poisoned.

I paused in my ravenous eating, considering this, but continued. It's okay if I died, I conlcuded. The afterlife had to have been better than this.

I took a break from eating to chug down one of the bottles of water. I inhaled deeply, feeling so much better now that I had actual fluids in me, and nutrition. I began working on the eggs. I never ever ever liked eggs, but right now they were the most heavenly thing.

The door opened, and Michael was being carried in. He bare no further bruises or signs of pain. He had kicked brutal ass like I did. They set him down, set a tray of food in front of him, and I watched in amusement as he began to eat fast. I returned to my own food, cleaning off my tray. I looked over my shoulder at the girl, who had awoken. I nearly choked on my food, seeing the innocence in her face. She had wide brown eyes that stared at our food trays. I looked back up at the people, who were muttering to themselves, and then stealthily tucked a large poppy seed muffin inside my smock. Then a few pieces of bacon. I looked back at the girl, then back at my own tray, ignoring my stomach protesting against my generosity as I shoved a bottle of water down my smock, along with the remainder of my eggs. I postitioned myself so it wouldn't appear to have an entire meal hidden away under the hospital gown, then shoved the tray away, letting my head hit the ground in exhaustion.

I stayed there for a while, knowing that the eggs were getting cold and felt weird against my belly, but not moving an inch, not wanting to give anything away. After a while, they brought Dusty in, and I listened patiently to the sound of him eating. Then after what seemed like forever, the trays were picked up and the people left. I looked up, seeing we were alone, just the four of us, then turned back to the little girl. She looked up at me with wide eyes. I shook the food out of my smock, seeing it all fall to the ground in front of her. She looked at the food, this desperate expression on her face and then looked back at me. I nodded once, and she dived onto the food, eating greedily.

I sighed, sitting back on my butt in front of her, waiting with a patience I forgot I had as I watched the five year old eat. I closed my eyes and remembered my own little brother. His light brown hair, his blue eyes, that over excited grin he had. I escaped just for a little while, then when the sound of chewing stopped, I opened my eyes to see that the little girl had finished every scrap of food I gave her.

"What's your name?" I asked her, trying to keep my voice light, trying to be friendly, trying not to focus on the bumps protruding out of her back that would soon become wings. I focused on different aspects of her appearence. Her deep brown hair which was wavy and fell to her shoulders.

"Zoey." She said softly. Her voice was high pitched and beautiful with a slight lisp to it. So young and childish.

"I'm Bree." I whispered to her. She looked behind me, at the others. Michael tentively came over and sat next to me, looking at the child.

"I'm Michael. I'm her brother." He whispered.

"Guys." Dusty said. I looked over at him, and he waved us over. I stood up, going over to where he was standing by the mirror. He grabbed my wing, and I was startled to discover that I could actually feel him grabbing it.

"Look." He said, pointing to a spot on my wing. I turned slightly then looked in the mirror.

Tiny feathers were starting to grow.

I was shoved back into the room, one of those rediculous braces on my nose with a little bit of blood still dribbling out. I kept my head tipped forward. That's what I learned in health class; they always tell you to keep your head back but if you do that the blood could drain back into your head and develop a clot. Keep your head tilted forward so it just drains out.

Looking into the one way glass, I could see that half of my face was bruised black and purple. The brace held my broken nose into place so it could heal the way it was supposed to. Looking at the other people, I seemed to have suffered the least damage. Michael was lying on his side, wheezing breaths.

"Two cracked ribs." He groaned. "I did crappy. Surprised they didn't kill me."

"If they did, they wouldn't be able to sell us." I muttered, spitting out the blood that kept dribbling into my mouth.

"If they're selling us, wouldn't they want to keep us in mint condition?" Dusty asked, whose wrist was in a brace and his face was bruised up.

I shrugged, spitting out more blood. I paced around the room, stretching out my legs.

"So...we have wings." I started out bitterly. The two of them looked up at me. The bones protruding out of our backs had a whole different look to them now that we knew what they actually were.

"Do you think we'll be able to fly...?" Michael asked. I turned and looked back in the mirror. I looked at my gold tinted wings, which as I concentrated on them for a second, I couldn't make them move. I looked back at them.

"I don't know. Maybe. If they teach us." I muttered.

"I don't want them to teach us," Dusty snapped. I looked at him. "I don't want to stay here, I don't want to be here, I want to get the fuck out of here."

Michael and I muttered our agreement.

"How can we get out here..." I said softly.

There was a slamming noise outside the door, and the door to our room opened. We saw people with guns pointed at us, then a small figure with bumps protruding out of her back getting rolled into the room.

We were pushed into large fenced areas, similar to that of a tennis court. Each of us had our own area. Several doctors gathered around the fences, peering in at us, making remarks to each other.

I took my eyes off the doctors who loomed like vultures outside to watch as a burly well built 6' 4" man came into the area. He cracked his knuckles menacingly, smirking at me. I stared back at him mystified.

A crackly voice came over a loudspeaker, saying only one word. "Fight."

I watched as the man began racing towards me, shouting loudly. I cringed, wondering what the hell I was supposed to be doing. His fist raised, and I felt the blow of the punch as I fell to the ground. Dismayed groans came from the doctors, and I started seething. Some of the choice swear words raced through my skull. I rose to my feet, looking into the eyes of the guy. He laughed at me.

His fist collided into my jaw again, and I fell to the ground once more. I felt the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. I got to my feet again, a bit quicker this time. I tuned out the crowd watching us and focused on the man with booming laughter.

Again, he hit me, but I didn't fall this time. I just staggered back a few feet. I spit out blood, and turned back to him. I already knew everything I needed to know. I could see what was going to happen next. Before I knew it, I had his fist in my hand, and I was shoving him backwards. He fell back a step then came after me again. I ducked, and then punched him. He shook his head dazed, as if it hurt.

I was strong.

I pounced, fists flying. He fell to his knees, raising his arms up to deflect the hits. He finally pushed me hard and I rolled against the asphalt and jumped to my feet once more.

"Gary!" He called, and another strong guy standing at the entrance of the fenced area threw him a shotgun. I ran to him before he could point it at me, yanking it out of his hands and cracking him in the face with it. He fell to his back heavily. I raised the shotgun, loading it, loving the sound it made, and was ready to pull the trigger right in his throat when pain whipped up and down my entire body.

I fell to the ground shaking as volts of electricity pounded through me from that goddamn shock collar.

I heard the crowd cheering when the shock finally stopped.

"Let's go inside and talk prices for this one." I heard the white haired man saying. Murmers of agreement rang out, and then I was looking up into the face of the second burly man, who was looking at me in disgust.

"Fried chicken," He laughed, then his steel toed boot crashed onto my face.

"Keep going." We were told. All three of us were being led down the brightly lit hallway. The too clean smell of antiseptics didn't hurt my nose as much as it did before when I was so used to smelling vomit, urine, and other disgusting things. My knees still felt like Jell-O as we walked, with two oversized men escorting the way in their terrifying manner.

We were shoved into a freezing room that looked like a gym shower; Tiles covered the wall, ceiling, and floor, and a very large drain was in the middle of the floor. The two men handcuffed each of our hands to little bars that hung from the ceiling. Visions of rape, molestation, death raced through my paranoid mind. The men left however, and instead a thin figure in a sanitation suit, complete with a mask that covered their face. I was reminded by those government guys off E.T.

The figure was holding a large hose. He/She came over and carelessly ripped off the hospital smock I was wearing, followed by the cheap bra and pantie set. I stood there ashamed in the nude, and started wailing as the hose was turned on, spraying me with absolutely freezing water.

I screamed and cried from the cold, the water which felt like a thousand needles hitting my body with lightening speed. I felt totally weak when the water finally stopped. There was silence except for the sound of ripping material, and then I heard Dusty's screams as the water turned on. I must have fallen asleep while standing there, because I was suddenly falling to the ground with impressive speed after someone unlocked my handcuffs. I groaned, then struggled to stand, but my arms refused to lock. I was shivering so bad.

A flimsy smock was being pulled over my head, and soon I was wearing a paper dress with part of the back open. The unidentifiable bones had broken through the last smock. I was vaguely aware that I was naked in front of Michael and Dusty, but I couldn't focus on the humiliation of that. The idea of being worried about that seemed very stupid and childish of me.

We were walking down brightly lit halls again, all of us shaking from our tortured shower. We were suddenly outside, and the feeling was the most incredible thing. Fresh air, real fresh air, surrounded our naked skin and the humidity in the air was an amazing change from the freezer feeling inside the building.

The sky was swirling with grey and white clouds, and the dirt under our bare feet was the richest brown in the world. I had forgotten what it was like to be outdoors. I missed it so much.

I looked over at Dusty and Michael, and my temporary joy was immediatly replaced by a deep gloom. Dusty and Michael's skin was a pasty grey color, their skin thin and pulling over the bones in their face. I wondered how terrible I looked.

A group of adults in white coats approached us, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the sight of us. I cringed from them slightly. They were muttering to each other.

Then a man with cropped white hair and a hard expression walked over to the group.

"Welcome to Vincgott's Scientific Research Center," He said. "What you see before you are three of the seven surviving experiments of Project 23."

Oh my God. Three of seven. There are four other ones. Where are they? What happened to them.

"Thanks to our brilliant surgeons, geneticists, avian experts, we have been able to transfer the proper dna into their system. With the right amount of training they will prove to be smarter, stronger, faster than any human on the planet." He said. I felt a growing hatred inside my chest. This guy gave me the creeps.

"What exactly can these specimens do?" A female doctor with a spanish accent asked.

"I'm very glad you asked that," The white haired man winked. "In given time, these specimens will be able to fly."

FLY?!

"Once these are full grown," He said, walking over to Michael and grabbing onto one of the bones protruding out of his back. "These specimens will have wings."

"They will be able to fly?" Another doctor asked.

"That is correct." The white haired man answered, letting go of Michael's wing and wiping his hand on his pants.

"What about fight?" Another one asked.

The white haired man smiled confidentially.

"Oh, yes, with the right training these ones will be unstoppable." He said quietly. "And that training begins now."

When I awoke from my drugged slumber I was on a gurney, but the weirdest gurney ever. It was like a massage table, where you lie on your belly and there's that whole in the bed where you stick your head. I was expecting to start whimpering and soon screaming from the pain, but there was no pain. I just felt very sore, like when you lift too many weights.

A door opened and I heard light footsteps moving around rapidly. Next thing I knew I was lifted from the gurney and rolled onto the floor carelessly. The door shut behind me, and I looked up at Michael and Dusty.

"Mike!" I cried out, running to him. He seemed pale and very underfed, like we all were, but fine. I was shocked to see that the bones protruding from his back was nearly 3 feet long, and fading to a rustic brown. Dusty's bones seemed to have ripped through the skin while I was out of it, and his were a deep deep brown and also nearing 3 feet long. The skin that had been ripped seemed to have healed around the bones.

I looked in the mirror (or one way glass if you want to get specific) to see that the bones had also ripped in my skin. I crossed to the mirror shocked, then saw tiny stitches in the folds of skin that were fastly healing around the bones. When I looked carefully, I could see a faint gold glint to the bones.

I turned back to Dusty.

"How long have we been here?" I asked. He looked at me dismayed.

"I don't know. They must have taken my watch while I was in surgery." He answered, raising his wrist to show there was nothing there. I turned back to the mirror, frustrated. I knew how long my hair was before we got in here; nearly down to my collar bone. It had grown two inches, and I knew that hair grew roughly an inch a month. At least two months. Shit.

I turned back to Michael and Dusty, feeling fresh tears sliding from my eyes. I crumbled to the ground, to my stomach, hiding my face in my arms.

"I w-want to go h-h-home." I sobbed. I wanted to go home so bad. I wanted to go home and see my mom and dad and little brother and sister. I wanted to go home and worry only about whether That 70's Show recorded. I wanted to sleep in my piece of crap bed.

It was weird to sleep again, I mean, really sleep without any drugs to knock me out. It was uncomfortable because I could only sleep on my belly on a hard cold floor wearing a hospital smock and flimsy cotton underwear. The nice part about it was I could sleep next to Dusty and Michael, and Dusty would hold my hand sometimes.

When I awoke the next day, night, morning, whatever, there were people in our room. The People were fastening something around Michael and Dusty's necks. When they saw I was awake, they came over to me, fastening something around my neck. It was very heavy.

After they were done, they left us alone. We all crossed to the mirror to see what they put on us. It was a weird looking collar. Michael tensed up, seeming to know already what it was.

"What?" I asked.

"They're shock collars." He muttered.

I looked back at all of our pale and scared expressions. Why would they put shock collars on us?

I awoke screaming. The pressure and pain on my back was the most horrendous thing in the world. It felt like I was going to die. No, I wanted to die just to escape the pain. Gripping the cage I was writhing in pain, feeling the lumps in my back growing and pushing against my skin. The pain refused to cease.

I wasn't the only one alone in the pain. The others screams seared my skull. The pain was so much that you could hear the sounds of crying and even throwing up from the pain. We were only given breaks from that pain when people would come and inject drugs into us, knocking us into little mini-comas for a few days.

All day, all night, we screamed.

It was a grotesque sight to see as the bulges kept growing until they were nearly half a foot out of our skin. No it wasn't out of our skin, our skin was being stretched with it. I didn't think it was even possible, but I saw it on Michael and Dusty. It was happening.

I was awoken from my drug induced sleep by the sounds of the loudest screams ever. I saw my brother gripping his head with both hands as he was shaking from his screams. The buldges were ripping through his skin!

Trickles of blood were pouring down his back as I watched in horror a pale white emerging from the ripped skin. Finally I looked away in fear I might throw up as the loudest scream exploded from Michael. Then he was quiet, breathing heavily. The doors opened, and I looked back at my brother, seeing the stretched skin crumpled around the base of a pale white...bone that had emerged. Blood was pouring from the wounds and his eyes were unfocusing. People came and wheeled his cage off. I wondered grimly if I had just watched my brother die.

More people came in and carried the cage next to me off, which contained a drugged out Dusty. As I expected, mine was also wheeled out of the room. We were carried into a small empty room that had only one of those one way windows disguised as a mirror. The top of my cage was lifted off, and next thing I knew I was rolling across the linoleum floor as I was shoved out of my cage. Dusty was lying on the floor stationary. Michael wasn't here.

The door closed before I could see who had brought me in; Not that I really wanted to see who it was anyways. I wasn't too keen on putting a face to my nightmares.

I sat on the floor near Dusty, terrified again. When would my skin be ripped open to reveal bones? What had they done to us? What was Project 23?