Joyce Julep
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Emma's Growth Spurt, Chapter 27
🕑 Added 2021-05-26 20:13:09 +0000 UTCChapter 27
Emma had never before experienced the sensation of lightness, almost weightlessness, that was encompassing her body now. The closest thing it felt like was one of those tall roller coasters, just as she was beginning to go down over the edge of the highest hump. But her stomach never dropped, and the descent never came. It was an odd and paradoxical sensation to feel so airy when her huge body was hanging down low in the nets that were all around her. She could feel her immense weight straining the confines of her bonds, and yet at the same time, she perceived a strange sense of liberation, like she was escaping something.
One reason why, of course, was because she was literally being ferried up into the sky by a fleet of helicopters. The anesthetic had infiltrated her brain, and had apparently gone to work on her auditory nerves first — the persistent roar of the helicopter blades echoed like fuzzy background noise in her head. Her eyesight was still quite good, and turning her head to the side, Emma could see how high up they already were. A profound soup of blackness stretched out below, and for an instant Emma felt something like fear stab into her brain.
‘They’re going to fly out to sea,’ came the terrible thought, ‘And they’re going to weigh me down and drop me into the ocean…they’re going to kill me.’
But almost as soon as this awful thought ran like a lava train through her brain, its molten edges cooled, and her inner demeanor seemed to hiss in relief as she dismissed her terror, forging new ground in the process.
‘They’re not gonna kill me!’ she thought, immediately certain that she was right. ‘They didn’t just take all this time to capture me like this…to…just to kill me. They…they want me…they want to…study me.’
Her thoughts were becoming slower and more labored as the drug from the injection seeped further into her brain. A kind of laxity, a spiritual levity, was coming over Emma, and she felt herself relax her body into her bonds, causing the helicopters carrying her to all sink together a bit in unison as she sighed out. She wasn’t giving up, or admitting defeat, or doing anything, really; she was just recognizing the situation, and realizing that she didn’t really have anything to be afraid of. So this was some new adventure, some new chapter in the incredible and ridiculous story her life had become…whatever it was, it certainly beat living on that…that farm…with…with…
Emma had the emotional wherewithal to push down the pain and agony of what had happened, of what she had witnessed. She didn’t understand any of it, and the mere act of acknowledging what she had seen (let alone processing it) was proving impossible right now. So she repressed it; she pushed it down deep inside of her. Emma knew she was running away from it, but for right now, that seemed like a good thing to do. She didn’t have to think about it, so she wouldn’t.
Far down below, Emma began to notice that the utter blackness was punctuated here and there with little lights…friendly little collections of lights…they came together in cute little clumps and clusters, and they seemed to twinkle and wink up at her through the night. Emma’s thoughts were becoming undone now as she felt herself beginning to drift off, but she was able to understand that these little clumps of lights were little houses or farms, and sometimes even illuminated street corners or intersections, that shone through the rural darkness. The lights made her feel nice; somewhere far down below, a bunch of little people were sound asleep. And turning her head a little more to the East, Emma noticed that the gentle curve of the horizon was lit up by something much more luminous…was it the moon rising? It was really bright…A spaceship, maybe? Emma was aware of her thoughts becoming disordered and sluggish, but before she allowed her heavy lids to droop down over her eyes, she understood that the lights were coming from the city, far to the East. The city…where she had lived…where there were so many more people. She found herself badly wanting to see the lit-up skyscrapers from above, to see their tall, curved, vigorous towers straining high up into the night sky, setting it aglow with their arrays of colorful, flashy lights.
Whether because of the drugs or not, Emma actually felt herself smiling as she tried hard to keep her eyes open for a little while longer, so she could stare at the city glow far on the horizon. Yes, surely it was the drugs…she was feeling a little silly now, imagining those skyscrapers flashing their lights at her, rising up tall, jostling next to each other, trying to impress her with how big they were, how fancy, how flashy. Didn’t they all realize that from up here, they all looked tiny?
Emma would’ve laughed to herself, but she only managed to retain that same smile on her face as her head dropped down heavily into her bonds, and she passed out completely. The fleet of helicopters roared on, thousands of feet in the air, bearing her unconscious body towards the undisclosed location that the government had been preparing for her for some time.
When Emma started coming to, the first sensation she experienced was the feeling of soft warmth around her torso, like she was wrapped in something heated and fluffy and pleasant. She moaned out without meaning to, and her own sound made her realize that she was awake, and that she could open her eyes if she wanted to. But a voice was echoing in her ear now, a little voice, like it was from a little man inside her ear.
“Emma…Emma…can you hear me, Emma?”
She opened her eyes. She was lying on something, with her head propped up; the room was grey, with bright lights shining on her face, and the ceiling was low, so low that it felt oppressive. Emma closed her eyes again, feeling groggy, and not really wanting to deal with her external reality for the moment. It all felt too harsh.
“Hello? Emma?” came the voice again. A soft, friendly voice…a male. “You opened your eyes just then. Can you hear my voice?”
The man’s voice was pleasant, yes, but it carried an air of insistence and authority. Emma got the sense that he had been there next to her for quite some time, and would remain there for however long it took for her to communicate with him. She tried to move her arms and legs, but realized that she couldn’t so much as budge. She opened her eyes again and looked down at her body. She was clothed in what looked like a big, fluffy white bathrobe that went down past her knees, halfway down her calves; she was lying on some kind of a stretcher or elevated bed, to which her arms, legs, and torso were all securely strapped. Feeling a bit nauseous, Emma set her jaw and tried once again to move, but she couldn’t move her body an inch.
“There you are, you’re awake!” said the man, who was somewhere slightly behind her. Emma couldn’t see him. “Don’t be afraid Emma — you’re still on a nerve block, so you won’t be able to move for a bit. It’s for your own safety…haha, well, and ours too…but mostly just yours, Emma. So please try and relax, alright?”
“Wh-where…where am I?” Emma managed to ask. Her voice seemed to shake the room, and the sound of something shattering on the floor behind her cut the air.
“Heheh…you see?” chuckled the man, apparently to someone other than Emma. “I told you, didn’t I? I knew it…alright, well come in here and clean it up! You’re the one who lost the bet.”
Emma closed her eyes and opened them again, still adjusting to the harsh white light. She didn’t at all like the fact that she was paralyzed, and that she was strapped to a stretcher in this tiny little grey room that looked like a prison cell. She could move her neck at least, and was able to turn her head around enough to see that there was a large computer monitor on a desk slightly behind her. A man in a white lab coat was sitting behind the desk, and as Emma looked at him, his face brightened and he stood up, coming around to the side of her bed. The entire wall behind him was a huge mirror, which only added to Emma’s sense of disorientation.
“Good, good, you can move your head...your neck,” continued the man, stopping about eight feet away from the bed as he pulled a rolling stool up and sat in it, “You can obviously talk just fine. Excellent!”
Emma opened her mouth to repeat her question, but then stopped, furrowing her brow as she studied the man, who just continued to sit there smiling pleasantly at her. He certainly didn’t seem old…he was probably in his mid-thirties or so, Emma thought…and not bad-looking either, with his youthful face, short brown hair, and glasses that completed the erudite, slightly-nerdy presentation. The way he was looking at her was friendly and curious…eager, even. But even though he was smiling, Emma did not in any way feel reassured. She glanced down the side of her body, looking down her left arm, which, aside from her hand peeking out, was completely covered by the fluffy white robe. All she needed to see for reference was her hand, though, and after a few seconds of staring, she got her spatial bearings back. This “man” was absolutely tiny compared to her…a tiny blip of a person…and Emma felt in her bones the reality of the situation. If she had been able to stand up before him, his head would have only come up to the middle of her calf muscle. He was sitting too close to her…far too close…to be leaning back in his stool, smiling casually like that, like the two of them were already friends. Emma felt another wave of nausea sweep through her and she closed her eyes briefly until it passed over. She retched a little, an odd sound that echoed unpleasantly off the walls.
“Hmmmm, yeah, that spinal cocktail we gave you was pretty strong,” chuckled the man, looking at her steadily as his eyes crinkled up amiably. “Course you can’t really blame us…especially after what you did to those police officers last week. Heheh, you got lucky Emma, real lucky…that none of them died.”
Emma opened her eyes again and stared at the man. This was all too weird…she fought through the nausea that was beginning to taper off anyway, as she once again blinked and made an effort to focus her eyes on this person. Part of her wondered if he was miniature-sized, and if this was all some kind of sick joke, but then she remembered how everyone looked this small to her…he was probably 6 feet tall. And still he just sat there, with that pleasant smile on his face, which, when Emma was able to consider what it meant, produced a chilling effect inside her. She tried to swallow, but her throat was very dry, and it took a few times to get any lubrication. Was he fucking with her!? He had to be fucking with her, smiling like that while he said all that stuff about the police officers. Emma had managed to push that ugly episode out of the forefront of her mind, but now sudden images came back. Something red streaking the barn wall, a crunching sound, dark bodies lying strewn around, stretched out across the ground…still, unmoving. The flashing lights of that ridiculous little ambulance…all those strange high-pitched yells…the burning rash on her face from those bullets…those bullets…those fuckers had shot at her…nearly taken out her eye. And for what?! Now she was being interrogated — that’s what this was, surely!
Emma set her jaw as she glared stonily at the smiling man on the stool. Obviously he was trying to provoke her, but she wasn’t going to let him. She wanted to defend herself, to angrily counter that she was the one who had been attacked, but she figured that’s what this guy was expecting to hear. Her throat contracted and she swallowed again, this time successfully. She was thirsty, but didn’t want to ask this person for anything…not yet. She would be calm; she would be steady…take it easy…and match this little piss-ant in pleasantries, until she figured out where she was and what was going on…and until the nerve block wore off. Emma was already pleased with herself for concocting a plan to make it seem like she was still paralyzed when she really wasn’t anymore. She’d take him by surprise.
“So you’re, like…with the police, huh?” she asked mildly, staring up at the ceiling, and then back down at him. The man shook his head, his smile unmoving.
“Oh no…no I’m not a police officer,” he replied with a kind of self-effacing, awkward humor. “No, I, uh…I wouldn’t have made it through the police academy…too many push-ups, hahaha!”
Emma blinked at the man, totally thrown for a loop. Was he actually expecting her to laugh at that? He was certainly still laughing, though it gradually died down as he became a little more outwardly serious. She began feeling very uneasy.
“Heheh…no, no, anyway, haha, sorry, lame jokes, I know…hahah, anyway, no, I’m not a police officer, Emma. My name is Dr. Clinebell, and I work for the government.”
Emma’s unease deepened. She remembered all the drones that had been buzzing around the farm in the days leading up to…well, leading up to that night when…when they had shown up to take her away. Emma felt nausea of another kind rising up through her, but she set her teeth and shut her eyes tightly, refusing to give in to those awful memories. She had already resolved that she simply was not going to think about it…any of it. It suddenly occurred to her that her tightly-shut eyes could possibly be misconstrued as guilty anxiety, and her eyes shot open. She made a point to blink softly, almost lazily, at Dr. Clinebell.
“The government?” she asked with the same mildness as she had her first question. “So, uhh…it was you guys with all the drones and everything?”
“Oh what, you noticed?” joked Dr. Clinebell, snapping his fingers. “Damn! We were trying to be so discreet with them, especially there towards the end, haha!”
Emma was definitely not appreciating this little twerp’s humor. There was something dark behind it, an unspoken implication of a threat. What did he want from her?! A confession? Or did he just want to see her suffer? How many other people were behind that mirror, peering in? Was he going to torture her!? Emma blinked slowly and made a point to take several long, deep breaths.
“That’s it, take it easy, in and out, in and out,” nodded Dr. Clinebell, glancing up at something past her. “Your heart rate’s a little elevated, and your adrenaline is spiking a bit…I know you’re anxious, Emma, but don’t worry, you’ll understand everything perfectly well in time. Just know that we’re here to help you.”
“Here to…to wait…wait, are…is there…do you have an IV in me!?” Emma asked suddenly. For the first time she had noticed a clear plastic tube winding out of the white bathrobe of her left arm, back to somewhere she couldn’t see. She made an extra effort to turn her head the other way, and she saw that there was a gigantic clear bag of fluids elevated on an IV pole just behind her. A tiny figure started back and retreated, holding a little stick…Emma was a little too focused on the IV to pay too much attention, but she was able to lock onto the stumbling little figure, and she realized it was another doctor in a white coat, clutching a broom. The shiny, jagged edges of a broken glass beaker winked up at her from the floor. But Emma wasn’t interested in any of that. She turned back to Dr. Clinebell, whose eyebrows had gone up.
“Mmhmm,” he nodded casually. “Just some…uh, you know…vitamins and minerals…you were deficient in magnesium and folic acid upon your, uhm…admittance, so we thought it would be a nice idea to stabilize those levels. Get us all off on the right foot, you know?” He blinked and made a point of looking past Emma to the other doctor in the room. “I see you’ve spooked Dr. Tanner, by pulling the dreaded “looking at him” move, hahaha…come on, Tanner, are you being serious right now?”
“Just…just cleaning up, is all!” Dr. Tanner squeaked. Emma heard the frantic sounds of broken glass being swept up into a dustbin. She didn’t really care to look back at that other guy — clearly he wasn’t the one in charge here. Besides, his fearful reaction was more understandable; it was Dr. Clinebell’s cool, quirky ease that was really starting to get to her.
“Jesus Christ man,” Dr. Clinebell laughed, shaking his head in amazement, “She had 50 milligrams…FIFTY…of a single erector spinae plane nerve block like five hours ago…AND she’s got a steady drip of dexamethasone, dexmedetomidine, and lidocaine straight into her bloodstream. AND she’s tied to the bed. I'm pretty sure we’re gonna be ok.”
“Yeah, and she weighs over 3,600 pounds,” blurted out Dr. Tanner, who quickly gathered up the broom and dustbin and exited the room. Emma tried to arch her head to get a look at the room outside, but it was totally dark and she couldn’t see anything.
“Wait a minute,” she said suddenly, turning back to Dr. Clinebell, bemused. “I weigh over 3,600 pounds!?”
“Great job Tanner…just…well done,” said Dr. Clinebell sarcastically, clapping his hands towards the monitor in the far corner of the room behind Emma. “You’ve got the lady all stressed about her weight now.” He closed his eyes for a moment and then looked back at Emma. “Yes…that’s what you weigh Emma…but you’re also about 27 feet tall, so…your body-mass-index is actually right in the “normal” range, so…yeah, aside from that little mineral imbalance, you’re perfectly healthy!”
“Mineral imbalance…” said Emma slowly, looking back down at the IV tube snaking out of her fluffy white robe. The doctor’s words were slowly dawning on her, and she had to make another big effort not to lose her composure. “But you said…wait…were you lying to me before? You’re not actually giving me…minerals, are you? Y-You’re just…you’re just keeping me…paralyzed.”
“No, no, we’re giving you minerals and nutrients,” corrected Dr Clinebell matter-of-factly. “Aaaand…you know, those few other things I mentioned…heheh…of course you understand, Emma. It’s just for everyone’s ease and protection, until we all reach…well, a mutual understanding. A certain benchmark of trust, let’s say. I want to trust you Emma. And I know you want to trust us. But we don’t even really know each other yet.”
Emma’s eyes widened slightly and focused on the doctor. She wasn’t really sure what she looked like, and at the moment she didn’t really care. She was already sick of this messed-up act that these people were putting on for her. She felt like screaming, but she knew that this would be counterproductive. No…no, she had to remember her plan. She had to keep playing their little game, whatever it was, until she could move again.
“Ok, so…so fine,” Emma said finally, laying her head back on her elevated bed, making it a point to keep her eyes fixed on Dr. Clinebell. “That…that sounds good. What do you know, uhm…about me?”
Dr. Clinebell leaned forward in his stool, and Emma felt another chill go through her.
“Well we know quite a bit about you, Emma,” he said softly. “We’ve had our eye on you for quite some time…months, in fact. Ever since you took that little jaunt out of your house down the street and had that little run-in with a police officer...well, technically a bit before that, but never mind, haha. Remember that little episode?”
Emma stared at him blankly. The truth was she didn’t remember it at all. She wanted to believe that the doctor was lying to her, but yet, despite her inability to remember, she acknowledged deep down that it was probably best for her to just accept the reality of the incident for the time being. The last months had been so strange, so frantically hazy and grotesquely disordered, that it made her feel considerable stress and anxiety just trying to recall specific things, especially anything that happened before they…she…went to the farm.
“Easy, Emma…steady,” said Dr. Clinebell, looking up at the monitors as they chirped a little at him. “It’s ok if you don’t remember. I didn’t expect you to, actually. I only mentioned that because that’s when we were first…alerted to your presence.”
“Ok…uuhhh…alright, well, so…so what did you do…after that?” asked Emma. She felt like her question was lame, but she was just trying to get a grip on everything here.
“Well we just kept an eye on you,” said Dr. Clinebell simply, spinning a little back and forth in his stool as he looked at her. “And when you and your boyfriend moved to —”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” interrupted Emma hollowly. “Not anymore.”
“Well…ok…maybe we can just put a pin in that and save it for Dr. Bolton,” replied Dr. Clinebell genially.
“Who’s that?” blurted Emma. She really disliked Dr. Clinebell’s cheery disposition, especially right now.
“Dr. Bolton is a psychiatrist,” answered Dr. Clinebell simply. “Your psychiatrist, to be exact. She’ll be speaking with you a little later on today if we…well, if everything goes well up until then.”
Emma opened her mouth to speak and then stopped, pausing there with her mouth open as she creased her brow at the doctor. He seemed to enjoy her confusion and bit his lower lip, apparently to prevent himself from grinning too obviously. Emma exhaled, shut her mouth, and laid back on the bed again. For a full minute, neither of them said anything. Emma didn’t feel like allowing this little creep to indulge whatever medical fantasies he was engaged in right now, but after a minute, her desire to know what was going on trumped her stubbornness.
“So, like…you guys know…know the whole story then?” she asked. “You were…you were watching me the whole time I was on the farm?”
“Prrrrrretty much, yeah,” said Dr. Clinebell. “But we don’t know everything…like we weren’t eavesdropping on every conversation you were having with…well, with your family.”
Emma knew that she should be mad, or that she should at least feel violated, but now she was suddenly more curious than anything else.
“Do you know why I’m growing?” she asked bluntly, staring straight at the doctor. There wasn’t any hope or emotion in her voice — at this point, Emma didn’t even want to change anything about herself. But if they did know, she wanted to know too.
“Well, to be perfectly honest Emma…we don’t,” said the doctor, shrugging. “We’ve been in contact with the Institute you were at way back….you know…all those months ago?”
“Yeah…” said Emma, not really caring to remember. She suddenly remembered Igor…the first time she had thought about him in months…he had been sweet to her for a time…but in the end he just hadn’t really understood, had he? And how could he have? He was only 8 feet tall.
“Yes well, heheh, glossing over that one,” chuckled Dr. Clinebell awkwardly, waving his hand, “We’ve pooled resources and done our own research and…well, yeah, we still have no idea what’s causing your growth. But of course, that’s the main reason why you’re here, Emma — for us to try and figure out what’s going on with you.”
Emma felt her jaw slacken a little as she swallowed again.
“S-so…so I’m not here for you to…to punish me?” she asked. In this moment, she really did let her guard down, and her voice, even though it still rattled and vibrated everything in the room, was trembling with emotion that had suddenly welled up inside her chest. Emma had no idea where it had come from, and the shaking timbre of her voice surprised her most of all.
“Oh but why Emma?” asked Dr. Clinebell mildly, tilting his head toward her. “Why would we want to punish you? Have you done anything that deserves punishment?”
His voice was soft and careful…but it was tinged with something that really freaked Emma out. She knew that she had been repressing a lot of anguish and heartache and god-knows-what else for so long. The surreal situation she was in now, while literally lying there paralyzed, was forcing her to confront the fact that she had no idea how to answer the doctor’s question.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. Her throat burned with sudden emotion, and she felt a tear roll down her cheek. Normally her chest would have been heaving right now, but she couldn’t move anything below her neck. Her throat strangely seemed to be taking the place of her chest, and she swallowed again and again, feeling her muscles stiffen and sting as her lips started twitching. “I don’t know…”
“No?” asked Dr. Clinebell, arching his eyebrow. Emma had been expecting him to immediately offer her reassurances, especially now that the monitors were chirping at him again. But he just sat there, his head inclined, like he was expecting more of an answer. Emma looked away from him. She couldn’t take his slow, steady stare. His eyes made her feel sick…they made her feel like she had good reason to worry that this was all a grotesque theater of punishment, designed to torture her and drive her mad. The seconds passed by, and the tension hung heavier every moment nothing was said. The only sound in the room were the monitors, which were steadily beeping increasingly urgent sounds. The fact that Dr. Clinebell was ignoring them only made Emma feel sicker.
The crackle of an intercom suddenly peppered the air.
“We’ve got a Code R00.0 now, Clinebell,” came the voice through the intercom in the ceiling.
“Ignore it,” the doctor replied, not taking his eyes off Emma’s face. “We’re making headway.”
“Wh-what’s…what’s going on?” Emma asked, glancing at the monitors and back at Dr. Clinebell. “Is there something…something wrong with me?”
“I’d like for you to focus,” said Dr. Clinebell smoothly, “On what we were just talking about, Emma. You leave everything else to me, alright?”
Emma opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. Her eyes rose from the floor back to the doctor’s face, and she flexed her throat, attempting to swallow down the nausea that kept making her feel like she was about to throw up. Why was she suddenly feeling so terrible!? Was it all to do with what the doctor was implying? That she had done something horrible? Emma dragged her mind back to that night when the police had come, when they had interrupted the sweet, tender moment she had been having with Daniel…she felt another throb of tragic emotion well up inside her, and she she set her teeth and pushed it back down savagely, hating herself in the process. She had promised herself…she had promised that she wasn’t going to torture herself like this, thinking about him. He had been clear enough in his behavior — he had moved on from her, and so she was going to move on from him and not think about it anymore.
She turned her head back to Dr. Clinebell, and her eyes were glittering with a strange mixture of caustic, apologetic pride.
“I…I don’t know what you want me to say,” she began. She was making an extra effort to sound sane and controlled. If she hadn't made it a point to do this, she would have been shaken by sobs as she tried to speak. “Y-you’re…you’re acting like I’ve done something wrong…like…like I’m under some kind of…interrogation or something. But I’ve got…got nothing to apologize for.”
Dr. Clinebell continued staring at her silently. Emma couldn’t take much more of this. It was clear that her answer meant more to him than she understood, and the fact that she couldn’t wrap her mind around what he was getting at was driving her crazy.
“Did you get all that, Dr. Bolton?” Dr. Clinebell said mildly, addressing the intercom on the ceiling.
“Loud and clear,” crackled a voice in the intercom in response. A female voice.
“L-Look…” said Emma, now increasingly flustered by the reminder that, on the other side of that huge mirror wall behind her, there were other people watching…scientists…and god knows who else, “If this…all this…is about th-that…that stuff with the cops…with all the cops the other week…? It wasn’t my fault! They…they just…just came at me, you know!? They tried to arrest me…for like, like no reason.”
The whole situation felt totally ridiculous, and if Emma hadn’t felt so claustrophobic, and so confused, and so emotional, she would have felt like bursting out in mocking laughter. What on earth were these little doctors doing with her? It was like they were playing make-believe or something…some kind of bizarre roleplaying game. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Emma wondered when the little guy was going to just laugh, throw up his hands, and say that it was all a big joke.
“Is that true, Emma?” asked Dr. Clinebell in a low voice. “Was it really for no reason at all?”
Emma lay there, staring at him incredulously. What could he be getting at!? She tried to think back to that night, ignoring the nice parts with Daniel right before the cops showed up, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember why they had come to arrest her. She had totally forgotten her earlier encounter with the man in the field, and, of course, what she had actually been doing to Daniel before. Her brain had repressed the memory that it was, in fact, her family who had called the police on her.
She stared back at Dr. Clinebell and set her jaw straight. Her right finger twitched, and Emma felt a surge of energy go through her. The nerve block was starting to wear off. She quickly reminded herself to hide her newfound movement, and so she didn’t try testing her other fingers or limbs…she was biding her time.
“They just showed up with their little guns and…and tried to arrest me,” declared Emma defiantly, “And then they just…they shot me a whole bunch of times…do you see this little rash on my face? That’s from their…their bullets. One of them almost shot my eye out. They were the ones who attacked me — I just…I just defended myself.”
Dr. Clinebell nodded at her for a few moments, saying nothing more. Emma could feel the feeling coming back into her toes and fingers, and, ever so surely, her feet and hands. The warmth of sensation was spreading. She looked down to check her bonds. Even though they were definitely tight, Emma had no doubt that she could easily rip them apart when her strength came back. Then she would bust out of wherever she was being held and run away…far away…maybe she’d go out into the ocean somewhere, or far up into the mountains…somewhere she could be alone and away from all these little people who wanted to play stupid games with her.
The doctor was now so close to her that Emma marveled at his bravery. She could have probably reached out and grabbed him right then and there, if she had wanted to…and she wondered, as he leaned over her, looking into her eyes, whether Dr. Clinebell was somehow baiting her. He had glanced at the monitors as he approached her — did he know she was getting her feeling back?
But now, the doctor had opened his mouth to speak. He kept it open for a few long seconds without making any sound, with his eyebrows raised, as a silent way of emphasizing what he was about to say.
“Just so we’re clear on a few things, Emma,” he said through a soft smile, “Before we move along…”
Emma blinked and nodded. She had become nervous again. The doctor licked his teeth and continued, almost in a whisper.
“You are a strong and powerful woman…the tallest, the biggest, and the strongest we have ever seen or heard of. That much is certain, Emma. And it has become clear to us, as we’ve been watching you, that you aren’t always in control of yourself. We don’t blame you Emma…really, we don’t…we can only imagine what it must have been like for you this whole time. A regular mind-fuck, I’d imagine, hahaha! Anyway…not sure how I’m doing with the whole bedside manner here, heheh…they didn’t really teach us about this part in med school, as I’m sure you could guess…”
Emma just blinked at him, confused and irritated. She had been held by his serious words, but then all of a sudden he had “broken the spell” and started cracking jokes again. Dr. Clinebell seemed to notice and held up his hand, smiling apologetically.
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…heheh, ok, moving on…aaaanyway…like I was saying, we have good reason to believe that, in our research facility, you may behave…unpredictably. And that’s fine, Emma! That’s aaaaall fine — we WANT you to be yourself here…to explore what you want to explore…to do what you want to do. But, see, here’s the thing…”
He got even closer to her, so that his face was now only inches away from hers. Emma was taken aback by his boldness — it impressed her, to the point where she almost forgot about how much she was going to wreck the place when she got free.
“We just CAN’T have you threatening or hurting anyone here,” he breathed down into her face. Emma caught the smell of peppermint, not altogether unpleasing. “Your psychiatrist, Dr. Bolton…your nutritionist, Dr. Farley…orthopedist, Dr. Ossford…hahaha, I could go on, but I think you get the picture…for this all to work, we all need to know, EVERYONE, you included, how things are going to work here. And there are two rules, Emma, and only two. But you MUST follow them both. They’re quite simple. The first is…well, haha, I’ve already told you, haven’t I? You are NOT to hurt or threaten ANYONE who works here. That is the first rule. Simple enough, right?”
Emma nodded silently. She thought she may as well go ahead and play their little game, until she was certain of making a break for it.
“And the second rule,” continued Dr. Clinebell, “Is that you are NOT to try and escape. It’s a pointless endeavor, really, but Emma, we don’t even want to deal with you trying. We don’t have time for that. Are we clear?”
Emma didn’t nod this time. This was getting ridiculous. Who were they kidding — of course she was going to try and escape! She was their prisoner! They had drugged her and forcibly carried her off to some godforsaken laboratory somewhere. Did they really think she wasn’t going to try and get out!?
“Emma?” came Dr. Clinebell’s voice, which now carried an edge to it. “We can’t proceed unless you agree to the rules.”
“Uh, fine, sure…whatever,” said Emma, nodding halfheartedly as she shrugged. Dr. Clinebell looked at her hard, and that same slow, unsettling smile came to his face. His eyes had a gleam to them now. Somehow, the fact that he was a nerdy little dweeb made his expression even more sinister.
“Mmhmm,” he said. “I thought we might have a little issue.”
“No…no I said yes,” Emma replied, now feeling anxious.
“Oh I know what you said,” Dr. Clinebell answered, chuckling, “But come on Emma, you can’t fool me. You’re plotting your escape as we speak. Two minutes ago you just started getting sensation back in your hands and feet, and it’s been spreading to your arms and legs. You’re waiting for your chance, Emma. I can see it in your eyes.”
Emma was too stunned to move for a couple seconds, and when she finally managed to collect herself, what she saw in front of her was beyond confusing. Dr. Clinebell had put something over his face…some kind of weird-looking mask. A moment later, with cold realization, she understood that it was a gas mask.
Without speaking, the masked doctor raised his hand and pointed up towards the mirror wall. A sudden hiss seethed out of the ceiling. Emma looked up fearfully, and saw that a thick pink mist was being pumped into the room through grates in all four corners of the room. She struggled in her bonds, and even though she was able to move her hands and feet now, she found that she did not have the strength to extricate herself. A terrible feeling of helplessness took hold of her, and she yelled out into the room.
“Hey!! Hey s-stop!! STOP!! What’s…what’s going on!?!”
Her voice was deafeningly loud, but everything in the room seemed designed to be able to withstand the powerful sound waves that were pulsating through the air. Ordinary glass would have been shattered by her yelling, but Dr. Clinebell and his colleagues had been prepared; even the gas mask he was wearing contained added protection for his ears.
“I knew we would need to do this, Emma,” he replied calmly, the microphone in his mask making his voice resonant so that Emma could hear him loud and clear. She stopped her struggles, scared by the doctor’s suddenly-amplified voice, and by the pink mist that was now enveloping them both. She held her breath, determined not to breathe it in.
“We’re not doing this to torture you, Emma,” Dr. Clinebell continued, as he stepped towards her again. “We’re doing this just so you understand that you must play by our rules while we have you here. They’re very simple rules, Emma, but it’s essential that you understand how important it is that you follow them.”
Emma glared at him, still holding her breath. The mist had settled around them, hanging in the air like a fog. Whatever mechanism that had pumped it out had already stopped; apparently the amount that had been pumped in was sufficient.
“What…is…that?” Emma asked in a halted, forced voice as she continued to hold her breath.
Dr. Clinebell didn’t answer. He simply stood there in place, staring at Emma silently, before slowly lowering himself back down into the rolling stool by the bed. He started gently swiveling himself back and forth, back and forth, as he fidgeted with his hands. Emma felt a surge of anger tear through her, and she thrashed and strained against the restraints. And then, without meaning to, she fell prey to the involuntary functions of her body, and she inhaled a little pocket of air up her nose, and a portion of the pink mist with it.
Instantly, a wave of crippling nausea crashed over her body. Emma opened her mouth and gagged, feeling horribly sick. She felt the color draining out of her face and neck, and her skin became cold and clammy almost immediately. Her vision swam before her eyes, such was the intensity of the nausea. It felt like her stomach itself was about to come up through her esophagus. Emma gagged some more, trying to vomit, but there was nothing to throw up.
“We pumped your stomach while you were unconscious,” Dr. Clinebell explained lightly, as if he was describing the time of day. “We didn’t want you making too much of a mess during our little…demonstration.”
“Please…” croaked Emma, trying desperately not to breathe in anymore of the mist, “Please…I…I w-won’t…I’ll…I’ll…”
“You’ll agree to the rules?” Dr. Clinebell finished. Emma nodded her head vigorously.
“Well….it’s nice to see that you’re coming around,” remarked Dr. Clinebell mildly through his mask, “But I think you need to just…take another couple minutes…you know, to consider. To make sure you reeeeally understand what you’re saying.”
Emma panicked and took another involuntary breath in. This one was deeper, and a lot more of the mist went up her nose and permeated directly into her bloodstream.
“Aaaaauuuuuughh!!” Emma cried out in agony, thrashing her head from side to side. Gguuuuuuaaaahhhaaahaaaa!!!”
She didn’t even have the energy to spare to scream. Her body was being wrecked by a barrage of unbearable sensations, each of them uniquely painful. Her stomach seemed to twist even tighter up inside her, and she gagged again and again, unable to expel anything in relief. But now it wasn’t just her stomach — her skin was being tormented by what felt like hundreds of little needles, pricking and stabbing her over and over. In a matter of seconds, these painful pricking sensations seemed to rapidly coalesce into one uniform perception that gained and gained in intensity until, within ten seconds, it felt like all of her skin was on fire.
“Make it stop!!” begged Emma, turning desperate and pleading eyes on the doctor. “Please!! Auuughhh pleeeeeaase!”
Dr. Clinebell did nothing except tilt his head lightly to the side, like he was curiously examining the effects of the awful pink mist on her body. Emma could feel her heart pounding now; her chest was tightening up, and she felt like she was about to have a heart attack. In her panic, she had completely forgotten about trying to hold her breath, and each terrified gasp resulted in more of the pink mist getting sucked up her nose and mouth, permeating into her bloodstream within seconds. In less than half a minute it felt like every part of her body was on fire now. Emma wanted to scream and cry, to bellow out in pain, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t make a sound anymore. She was in such unimaginable pain that the world seemed to be centered on her screaming nerves, on the tormented synapses that were firing away in uncontrolled desperation. Her mind was willing her to escape from the nightmare, but there was nothing she could do. She clenched her teeth and shut her eyes, desperately hoping to black out. But the agony continued.
“Emma…” breathed the voice of Dr. Clinebell to her through the darkness. She kept her eyes shut, wondering if it was a hallucination. Perhaps she was dying.
“Emma,” his voice repeated, and after a few moments she remembered that she was still conscious and could maybe control her body. She opened her eyes, and saw Dr. Clinebell’s masked face, mere inches away from her own. This was a nightmare…this man was going to torture her to death.
“Emma,” he said again, and this time she heard him clearer. It didn’t sound like he was enjoying himself — instead, it sounded like he was in earnest.
“This is the LAST time you will ever feel like this!” Dr. Clinebell cried, and he put his hand on Emma’s shoulder and pushed into her, in an attempt to convey his sincerity. “If you agree to those two rules, Emma! If you follow them…then you will never, EVER have to experience this again, Emma! Do you understand?”
“YESSSS!” sobbed Emma. Dr. Clinebell’s touch had somehow allowed her to break through the wall holding her reactions back, and she bawled out shamelessly, the tears flowing from her eyes as she stared up at him in frenzied hysteria.
“You will NOT hurt or even THREATEN ANYONE who interacts with you, Emma,” declared the doctor firmly. He had stood up out of his stool, and now had both of his arms extended, pressing into her shoulder. His pressing wasn’t making the pain any worse; it couldn’t get any worse.
“I WON’T!!” bawled Emma, shaking her head crazily back and forth. “I WON’T!! I WON’T!!”
“And you will NOT even TRY to escape,” continued Dr. Clinebell with steady intensity, the hideous shape of his masked head shaking back and forth like a demonic phantasm.
“NOOhOHOHOOO!!” cried Emma, now positively mewing out in agony. “I’ll stay heheheheeeeeere!!”
“And you understand that if you break the rules,” persisted Dr. Clinebell, “Then you’ll get the gas again? And it’ll be worse next time, Emma…WORSE.”
“Y-YES!!” she panted, her eyes going even wider in desperation. Dr. Clinebell remained braced against her shoulder for a few more seconds, which seemed like an eternity to Emma, and then he stepped a couple paces back, nodding that grotesque head.
“Alright,” he said pensively. “Alright…ok.” Raising his hand up again, he pointed once more towards the mirror wall, and with a sudden whooshing sound, the pink gas was sucked out of the room, vanishing completely in a matter of seconds. Emma lay there, still sobbing, even as the immediate pain had disappeared as quickly as it had come on. Dr Clinebell immediately took off his gas mask, tossed it onto the floor, and was beside Emma’s bed within seconds, fiddling with her IV.
“Ok Emma, alright, aaaaalright,” he murmured. “It’s all over…aaaaaall over…I’m so, so sorry we had to do that. It’s totally not your fault. Heh! I’d have behaved the same way if I was you! But it was important…VERY important, Emma, to have you see how things stand here. Just relax…yeah, that’s it…breathe…in and out, in and out…”
“Wh-what…what was that stuff!?” moaned Emma weakly. She wasn’t in pain anymore, but she felt like she had just run a marathon, and sweated her soul out through her skin.
“Eh, I’d rather not talk about it,” Dr. Clinebell answered, shaking his head as he pumped something into her IV. “Some pretty nasty stuff, right? We’ve all had to experience it once, so trust me, I know how bad it is.”
“You’re giving 818 milligrams, Clinebell?” cracked a voice from the intercom.
“Psssh, listen to them, Emma,” Dr. Clinebell chuckled, shaking his head at her. “They’re forgetting how big you are.” He raised his voice as he put his hands on his hips, addressing the TV monitor in the corner of the room. “She came in at just about 1645 kilograms!” he declared. “Do you want her to feel it or not?”
“It’s…it’s c-cold,” Emma murmured, taking deep breaths as she looked down at her arm. Dr. Clinebell nodded and came over, pulling the white sleeve of her robe up and exposing her bare arm with the IV in it. Emma blinked and marveled for a second at how much smaller Dr. Clinebell suddenly seemed, standing next to her bare arm. Her forearm alone was as thick around as his entire body. But right now, Emma was feeling anything but big…anything but powerful. In a surreal moment, she suddenly got the impression of herself as an overgrown child being tended to by a loving adult. At this point she suddenly realized that she was starting to feel better. Much better.
Dr. Clinebell was rubbing her forearm with his hands, like he was encouraging the IV fluid to flow freer through her vein. He grinned up at her a little sheepishly.
“Heheh, yeah, it can feel cold going in,” he chuckled. “I don’t know…maybe this is helping? Haha, is it?”
“I…I’m feeling better,” sighed Emma. She felt herself smile as she exhaled in relief. Her behavior confused her, since it contrasted so harshly with how things had been a couple minutes before. But the reality was simple: that horrible, awful pain was gone. And it had been replaced by a sense of floating ease, which had started cold in the IV, but which was now spreading out into the rest of her body as a kind of calm, warm infusion.
“Good,” nodded Dr. Clinebell as he continued to rub Emma’s forearm. It was almost silly, looking at him doing that…he looked like a little kid playing with a gigantic sculpture, or an oversized action figure, or…what were those monuments in ancient Egypt? Of the pharaohs? Emma felt her mind wandering around strangely, even as she settled deeper into her relaxation.
“What…did you give me this time?” she asked, sounding almost lazy as she smiled down at the doctor.
“That was ketamine,” he answered, returning her smile. “And I can see it’s already hit you. Heheh, good…now just lie there for a few minutes and let it dissipate into you. After a bit you’ll feel a little more normal. You can even close your eyes if you want to, Emma. Here…I’ll…I’ll leave you alone to rest.”
“N-no…” she murmured, turning her head toward him. “No, I…could you…could you stay with me? Please?”
“You…want me to stay?” Dr. Clinebell asked uncertainly.
“Yes,” Emma nodded, blinking slowly as she looked up at the ceiling. She knew that her feelings of relaxation (and even a strange kind of slow giddiness) was the result of the ketamine, but she also knew that something had changed in her. She tried analyzing it, but she knew that it wasn’t complicated. She didn’t even entertain the idea that Dr. Clinebell had “won” this round. Instead, she simply accepted that, for the moment, at least, all she really had to do was follow those two rules. Being spared the horror of that torment was more than enough reason.
“I…I’m sorry,” she muttered, turning her eyes back down to Dr. Clinebell, “I…”
“Hey,” he said gently, patting her arm. “Just relax, ok? Anything you wanna say, just give it like ten minutes, alright? I want to give the ketamine time to do its thing. Here, just…here.”
Even though Emma was feeling high, what happened next surprised her. Dr. Clinebell went alongside her bed and, as he pressed a series of buttons underneath her bed, she felt her restraints loosen, until, one by one, they fell away from her, coming undone and crumpling in little heaps on either side of her bed. She lay there for a few moments, staring at him, not knowing what to do or say. The slow warming waves of the ketamine didn’t smooth out her surprise; in that moment, she was more impressed by Dr. Clinebell than she could have believed possible minutes before.
“Yeah, just…just stretch your arms and legs out a little,” said the doctor, coming back around and smiling at her as he plopped himself back down in his stool. His eyes flitted upward as he watched in awe as the giantess extended her arms up over her head, and lifted her legs a little up off her bed, flexing and stretching. Emma noticed him watching her and gave a little huff of a chuckle. She was used to people looking at her like that, but it meant something more when it came from Dr. Clinebell, especially when he was in a room alone with her. She could have snatched him up and popped him right then and there…she could have ended his life…but she didn’t want to. It wasn’t just about the threat of that horrible pink gas. The brief trauma of that experience had reset something important in her mind. Emma didn’t WANT to cause trouble anymore.
“I’m so sorry we had to do that, Emma,” the doctor repeated quietly, returning to his back-and-forth spin on the stool.
“No, no I understand why,” Emma murmured, settling back down on the bed as she looked up at the ceiling. “Really, I do…I get it. No hard feelings.”
Another silent minute passed with the two of them just there in the room, him sitting, and her reclining.
“Well Emma,” Dr. Clinebell said, sighing out pleasantly, “You’re a pretty cool young woman, I have to say.”
“Huh?” she asked, glancing down at him. “How’s that?”
“After all that we just put you through,” Dr. Clinebell chuckled, spreading his hands out, “And you just…take it in stride. I’ve seen hardened men, military types, Emma, totally laid up for days after being exposed to…um…to that stuff. We were expecting something similar with you, to be honest.”
Emma felt a touch of pride, even as she knew that she should probably be feeling more affronted than she actually was right now. The feeling just was not there, though, and after weeks…months…of confused mental anguish, she welcomed the stony simplicity of her current situation. She was going to be nice and gentle…and she wasn’t going to try and escape. Somehow, she knew that they were going to treat her well as long as she followed their rules.
“Yeah, well,” she sighed, smirking down a little at the doctor, “Those military guys…heheh, they probably weren’t as big and tough as I am, huh?”
“Ha! Definitely not!” laughed Dr. Clinebell.
The next half-hour proceeded along gently, without too much going on. Emma relaxed and recuperated, and Dr. Clinebell kept her company. Very little was said until, at long last, a few minutes after he had removed her IV, the doctor stood up and went over to the corner of the room, next to the long, high mirror wall. Emma’s eyes followed him curiously.
“Alrighty, Emma!” he exclaimed, and Emma felt a surge of excitement go through her. She could tell from his voice that something momentous was about to happen. “You ready?”
“Uh-huh,” Emma nodded, sitting up on her bed. “But…ready…for what?”
Dr. Clinebell smiled as he looked up to the TV monitor in the corner. “Ok, go ahead and open it!” he called. With a loud, sudden creak, the entire mirror wall began to bend inward, with the bottom rising straight up towards the ceiling. A brilliant sliver of light immediately emanated from the bottom, and Emma could tell that it was daylight. For a second, it hurt her eyes, but gradually they adjusted, right along with the opening door…for that’s exactly what it was. The entire mirror wall had been one huge door, and a few moments later, Emma was amazed to be staring out into an enormous space…a gigantic sunlit room that spanned out before her like a landscape. She had never seen a room so big. It was shaped like a long, high oval, and at the very end, hundreds of yards away, it opened up out into sunlight.
But beyond the room itself, Emma was amazed by what it contained. All about, there was gigantic furniture — a huge armchair, a massive oak table, complete with colossal wooden chairs…an immense bed in the corner…what looked like some sort of “gym corner,” with huge dumbbells and weight bars…it went on and on, and Emma couldn’t really take it all in at once. She couldn’t believe how big everything looked. Even still sitting up on her bed, she could tell that everything in this room was oversized, even for her.
“How about it, huh?” laughed Dr. Clinebell, gesturing at the room. “Repurposed airplane hanger, haha! We can be pretty resourceful when we want to be.”
“It’s…it’s incredible!” Emma exclaimed, getting up off her bed and crouching down. She still couldn’t stand up in the room they were in, but she unconsciously started crawling forward toward the huge room. At this point, she realized that the entrance to it was lined with other people in white coats…doctors, all of them…the people who had been watching the whole time behind the mirror. Some of them looked a bit uneasy, but all of them were smiling up at her. Emma blinked and smiled back. She noticed that she didn’t even feel resentful towards them. Instead, she realized that she was associating them with the inviting warmth of the room she was crawling towards.
“Welcome, Emma!”
“Glad to have you here, Emma!”
“Come on in!”
“Pleased to meet you!”
The doctors’ greetings crowded into her ears. Emma gently crawled between them, nodding and smiling. She noticed a younger-looking woman with short, jet-black hair, an older, balding man, a couple of middle-aged, nervous-looking men…kind of nerdy like Dr. Clinebell…a handsome older man with sandy brown hair, and a shy-looking man who looked quite young…perhaps her age, who, unlike the others, wasn’t wearing a white coat. There were more, but Emma couldn’t take them all in. It all felt so odd, and so surreal. These people had just kidnapped her…gassed her…made her feel the worst pain she had ever experienced in her life. But something had clicked in her mind. That was all part of the past, a past that, for all kinds of reasons, she wanted to forget. For the first time in a long time, Emma was feeling like she actually might be where she belonged. The ketamine had already worn off — she knew this was a genuine feeling she was experiencing. She almost felt emotional — all this work, all this setup, all these people…just for her!?
“Uh, hiiii,” she said, a little sheepishly, crawling between them all. A couple moments later, she was free of the small room she had been in, and she stood up. The doctors all watched in silent awe as she rose up above them, towering up beyond what any of them could have imagined before. She sighed out and stretched her arms up above her head, and was delighted to see that her hands didn’t get anywhere close to the ceiling.
“Well look at that!” laughed Dr. Clinebell. “Seems you’ve grown a bit, even just this morning.”
“Huh?” asked Emma, looking down at him. She had to search around close to her feet to find him, but she realized with a smile that he was the only one who hadn’t backed up a little when she had looked back down.
“Seems you’re just over 27 feet now,” Dr. Clinebell announced, glancing at his smartphone. “According to the sensor, at least.”
Emma didn’t even bother asking “what sensor” or where it was in or on her body. She wanted to explore the room. With an unconscious “little” hop, she bounded straight over to the nearest bit of furniture, a bright red easy chair. Once she got to it, she wasn’t able to mask her delighted surprise — the chair was WAY too big for her. It towered up above her, to the point where she needed to actually jump a few times to get up and sit on it. Once she was in the seat, she kicked her bare legs back and forth, enchanted, captivated by the fact that she was sitting in such a gigantic chair. She felt like a little child again.
“So…haha, so…what IS this place?” she asked, staring around. Once her eyes got used to the light at the end of the hanger, she could see, far out in the distance, the sharp, jagged peaks of mountains.
Dr. Clinebell laughed along with the other doctors, leading them up to her, all of them taking evident joy in her reaction. He spread his arms out towards the gigantic room.
“It’s your new home, Emma!”
Comments
Joyce Julep
Thanks so much for this comment, Valkyrie! I always value your wonderful insights into my stories, and oftentimes you end up unearthing elements that had escaped me, or that I hadn't even really considered before. So thanks so much for that! Chapter 28 coming in a couple weeks! <3
Valkyrie Cain
Wonderful chapter. It's interesting seeing Emma's development mirror a child's which you have done regularly throughout but it's really hitting me here. She needed to be reprimanded so she could grow. That's why Clinebell and Bolton were particularly interested in knowing how she felt about hurting the police officers. Also it was really impressive how you made me feel what Emma was feeling at any given time. I mean I knew she was getting out of hand but when she plotted her escape I was right there with her, Clinebell was a creep and he didn't appreciate that she was too big and strong to be treated this way. I eagerly anticipated the moment he would realise where the power actually lay. Then the ends comes and Emma feels more settled and so do I and suddenly I'm not counting the words until I read of the scientists' downfall. I think I'm really getting a sense of how off Emma's mental state has been. We were so close to her and I felt so bad for Emma while also being in awe of her power that I couldn't see she needed to be humbled and essentially disciplined. Great writing and character work. Look forward to Emma's growth, physical and emotional.
Joyce Julep
Heheh, thanks Jacob! As long as you don't feel the intensity of hatred Anakin did for Obi Wan on Mustafar, then I'm totally good with some good old healthy reader eagerness/exasperation <3
Jacob
Omg, you are such a good writer and at the same time making us hate you because you left us begging for more. (Hand on a telephone poll at 35ft)... Jesus your a real piece of work joyce. I feel like anikan skywalker..."I want more... and I know I shouldnt"
