The Secret of Zormna Clendar - Julie Steimle (best autobiographies to read .txt) 📗

“Maybe it is a top secret operation in their military,” one man said.

“That’s stupid,” Sicamore replied, turning toward the speaker in the shadows. “Her great aunt wasn’t part of the military. It means something else—like an ethnicity.”

He rubbed his chin and watched Zormna turn a strong shade of green. She threw up again, this time turning her head. She started choking.

The attending doctor jumped forward, grabbing the chest strap to loosen it. He turned the girl to face down so she could breathe. He also shut off the hot lamp. “That’s it! No more! We’re done.”

“There is a lot more—” Dr. Holbrook protested.

“No!” The attendant went to her IV, hastily removing the tubes so she could be moved. He quickly bandaged up her hand. “Not today! She’s just a child.”

“She’s not from our world,” foul Dr. Holbrook shot back. “Part of an invading army.”

“Technically space force,” Sicamore murmured. But he helped remove the rest of her straps. The girl looked so miserable, and weak. Already someone brought in a gurney to remove her back to her room.

“All the worse,” Dr. Holbrooke said.

A nasty sense of foreboding settled in Agent Sicamore’s chest. Hastily, he turned towards the general, seeking him out in the dark. He pointed back to weakened fourteen-year-old girl. “She needs to be handled gently. Not by the likes of Holbrooke. He’ll want to dissect her and torture her. But she has proven that she had come this town unwillingly. There is more to this so-called invasion than some nineteen-fifties cliché. I say someone with a little more subtlety should handle her. Meanwhile, Holbrooke can go search within our own ranks for these so-called operatives from Arras. But I need him off my team.”

He could hardly see the general’s face in the darkness. The one who had been overseeing this operation since the discovery of alien infiltration, took his time deliberating, sucking in on his cigar in thought. As he blew out smoke, the general finally said, “But what about her military training? What if she contacts her superiors?”

Agent Sicamore shook his head. “She already dismantled the device she had used. Most of the parts were hauled off to the junkyard by a neighbor. Besides, I heard a rumor that the McLenna girl said that Zormna was reprimanded for calling them, and has been forbidden further contact.”

“How much does that McLenna girl know?”

Frowning, Agent Sicamore shrugged. “I don’t know. I do believe she had finally become convinced that she was mistaken about what she had overheard. From what we could get out of the Asher boy, she had stopped believing Zormna was an alien.”

The general chuckled, gazing on their captive. They now had Zormna on the gurney and were rolling her out of the room. She was still mildly conscious, but was losing that fight as well. “She has some skill. Military trained indeed.”

Sicamore nodded.

“I bet their operatives are just as convincing,” the general said. “If not more.”

A shiver ran through Agent Sicamore, thinking about the events of the past two years, and he nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

*

It was daylight when Zormna opened her eyes again.

She blinked, watching particles in the air that floated in the stream of light stretching down from the small barred window to the floor. She lay there for a while. Her mind was still in the dream state, not sure what was reality and what was mere thought.  

Zormna drew in a deep breath. Her fingers stroked the bandage on the back of her hand, then trailed up to the bandages in the crooks of her arms. That’s when it all returned to her. It really had happened. That time in the dark room had not merely been a bad dream. It was a real nightmare.

And she was trapped.

But the sensation was surreal rather than terrifying. Perhaps it had to do with her still being partially asleep. But more because in the back of her mind something told her she would get out. That she was not finished yet, and this would not be the end. Despite that, it took a while before Zormna could focus her thoughts on something other than the awful evening before. By that time, she blinked and took another long breath.

She attempted to sit up.

Every inch of her body ached. It was difficult enough to lift her head off the mattress. It felt so heavy. And she was weary.

Her cheek was damp. Zormna wiped it with her hand, stroking also her chapped lips. Pawing the moist corner of the mattress, she found drool had puddled there. She groaned. Even now her thoughts remained slow. Turning her head, Zormna blearily gazed at the door. With a yawn, she stretched her neck. Then she stretched her shoulders, her arms, and bent down to extend her back, kicking off the blanket that covered her.

As she stretched, her eyes turned toward the floor.

Clear. Not a speck of mashed potatoes or glass was there.

This time panic grabbed her. Her heart jumped.

Was it even the same room?

Zormna quickly turned her eyes to the ceiling.

The lamp was missing, cord broken. So it was still the same room—unless it was another psychological game and they had torn it out to mess with her. Setting a hand to her chest, Zormna sat down and looked to the corner of the room to see if the camera was still broken.

It was. Red light off, and the lens was still in pieces. But the handcuffs were gone.

One last thing to check.

Zormna stuck her hand into the gap between the mattress and the wall, groping the space where she had left something important. Her hand stopped near the electrical outlet. Underneath the mattress, along the metal bed frame, it was still there. It was the same room. Whoever had come in had only cleaned the floor and wall where food and glass had scattered. The room no longer stank.  

Sighing heavily, Zormna leaned her head against the wall, the cool cinderblock bringing relief.

Eventually, Zormna resumed her old routine, finishing what she had started. Her resources were few, but if carried out right, she would be able to orchestrate an escape. Zormna did not think she would be able to hold out against another interrogation session. Already bruises had formed in the crooks of her arms and at the top of her hand. And that nausea had never left her. And worse, she was feeling absolutely ravenous. No one delivered food all day, though they had left her a bottle of water.

The light shifted along the wall during the day, eventually turning an amber color. By then, Zormna finally climbed off her bed and walked painfully to the far window. Her feet were still sore, some of the glass pieces probably still in the skin. Standing on her tiptoes, she peered out. All she could see was the sky. No trees. No buildings. Either she was in a second story or they were on top of a hill.

With a huff, Zormna tromped back to her bed, staggering a couple steps. Despite the rest, her head continued to faintly spin. But instead of sitting down again, Zormna reached across the mattress, tucked in the blankets there, then hopped to the end of the bed. With all her strength, she shoved the metal frame towards the window. The metal legs scraped across the concrete floor, resonating with echoes against the walls and along her teeth.

Stage one begins.

Drawn by the noise, the guards peered into the window at the door. She could see them out of the corner of her eye.

One guard laughed, his voice muffled. “She can’t get out that way. What is she doing?”

The other shook his head, watching as Zormna flipped the bed onto its side. The metal frame teetered before clanking solidly to the ground and against the wall. The mattress dropped off and so did her secret little project. She had made a chain from the metal links from the bed frame and the cord she had torn off the broken lamp. It was more than twice her height.

“Give me a break,” one of the guards said to his companion. “Is that supposed to be a rope? Does she expect to squeeze through those bars and climb out?”

The other snickered. “Now that would be a miracle. She’s not that tiny.”

Zormna hopped onto the mattress and picked up her wire and link chain.

“What is that thing?”

Zormna lifted her head and stared directly at their window. Both men drew back.

She smirked then hopped off the mattress. Bending over, Zormna heaved the mattress off the ground so it balanced on its side. Then with a great deal of effort (as she was so small and it was so big), she scooted the mattress straight to the door, tipping it on its narrow end. The last thing they saw before she covered the doorway with the mattress was her grin.

As soon as she blocked the door, Zormna slapped off the light switch. She dashed to the sideways bed. Scooting the frame a smidgen, hastily climbing up on top, she reached the remaining light cord hanging from the ceiling and grabbed it. It took a great deal of balance on that teetering metal frame, but she managed to wind the frayed wires hanging from the ceiling to the other end of the metal chain while bracing a hand up to keep from falling. She let the rest of the chain dangle to the floor. It was more than long enough. With no time to admire her handiwork, Zormna lighted off the bed end and shoved the frame back to the window.

Climbing onto the top once more, Zormna balanced on the bar with her knees and grasped the side of the window to keep stable. She clenched her fist, closed her eyes, and drew in a breath, thinking: ‘Here goes nothing.’

With force, Zormna rammed the heel of her hand straight through the glass.

Pieces fell down around her wrist, out through the bars, and into the grass as she screamed as loud as she could, “Help! Somebody help me! I have been kidnapped!”

Almost immediately she heard a boom behind her, coming from the mattress-blocked door.

Zormna quickly drew in her hand past the remaining sharp pieces of glass in the window. Blood coursed from her palm and fingers. But she hardly looked at it. While turning, Zormna leapt off the bed, grabbing the rubber coated end of the wire off the floor. She sprang straight to the outlet in the wall. Exactly, she shoved the exposed end of the wire into the slots with hope she had enough protection from any arching electricity.

No electrical shock. All was good. She hurried away from it to center of the room next, snatching up the bottle of water and twisting open the cap.

The mattress thumped again, teetering on its end. After a third bang, three guards rammed the mattress barrier out of the way, sending it crashing to the floor. It boomed against the concrete as they charged into the room.

Zormna stood back, waiting for them to come in further. She threw the open bottle of water at them.

The orderly swatted it away. The contents dumped over the floor, trickling to where the chain touched the ground in a large puddle surrounding their feet.

“Enough games, girly.” One of those huge ones that had seized her the first day walked forward to take hold of her arm. The other followed to double-team her.

In two quick steps Zormna was at the light switch. And she flipped it on.

One large jolt of electricity zipped across the chain connecting the ceiling to the wall and the water—and those standing in the puddle—with a pop.

All the light in the building immediately blacked out—including the hall. Now the only light was from the window.

The guard that had remained in the doorway stood too stunned to react as the other guards were knocked into unconsciousness. And he was too blind too see the little person slip past his legs and into the shadows of the corridor behind