less aware of what’s happening now. Each passing second I slip further from the present and deeper into a dreamlike state. I blink, lazily. It feels good to keep my eyes shut.
My vision becomes cloudy. I’m too tired to care. Too tired to fight it any longer. I lose myself in the weariness. I let it envelop me.
I wake with start and immediately find the air thick with a rotting smell and hard to breathe. I see lights all around me. Bright lights, not like before. I see dark walls and a series of windowless doors. I’m inside of a hospital of some sort, being pushed a gurney made out of a solid material. Hard rubber maybe. Or maybe a slab of thick wood. Maybe just worn carpet over a metal table with squeaky wheels.
I can feel tight metal straps against my wrists and ankles keeping me in place as I struggle to sit upright. I can do nothing.
A face appears close up. My vision is still blurry, too much to make out the other’s features, aside from the tan skin and the short brown hair. A smooth hand brings a small device onto my face, dabbing it from one spot to the next quickly. It’s like a small, noiseless vacuum. I don’t mind it.
I make quick eye contact with her, as I believe the dark brown eyes are female. I want to talk, I want to ask what happened and find out where I am, but I can’t speak. It hurts to even try. The desire leaves me almost instantly. The desire to do anything at all leaves. I sleep again.
A terrible pinch in my left forearm wakes me suddenly. It stings! I can move little; the straps are tight. I’m alert now, in a room. Lights and devices are everywhere. People surround me; more rush by. The look they give me is uncomforting; some offer pity, some disgust. Their eyes give away too much. I wonder what is wrong with me. My features must be badly damaged. Why else would they stare in such ways? They make me feel vulnerable and self-conscious. I begin to fear the worst. Something is horribly wrong and no one has said what. Voices flutter in and out like lights flashing in deep fog. Still no one speaks of my condition.
I see the shot coming this time, a long needle, a silver fluid injecting into my arm. It hurts. They all watch me. I feel tired again. I see the blackness close in on my vision, slowly washing away everything. I see less of their curious eyes. I see only the impenetrable dark.
I dream, I think. I see a beautiful woman with sad eyes, standing in the daylight by a boy and a girl. I cannot speak to them; I cannot hear their voices. The sky turns grey, their faces and bodies are slowly erased away, as if they are smoke in the wind, vanishing along with everything else.
The talking wakes me. The room is now less bright; only a few faces crowd the bed. Someone is doing something to my hands. They still hurt, but also feel strange. Someone fixes my pillow, straightening my head, talking soothingly, asking questions maybe. I’m not sure if it’s directed to me or not.
A man hovers over me. He’s old, tan like the other, with a bald head. He holds a small light, shines it into one eye, then the other. It’s bright! I turn in response, but the old man is persistent. The light shuts off and I look up to see the old man’s tan, smooth face smiling, eyes seemingly happy. I stare into the black pools looking back at me and suddenly remember the old man in the road. Was this him? Could it be?
Then suddenly I remember the crash. Images form with blinding speed, disappearing faster than they came, one after another, changing with a blink. But then someone jabs me with a needle and the pain steals my focus. The twinge from that rakes my body thoroughly. My feet feel cold now, fingertips numbing. So cold! My stomach begins to churn wildly, violently.
The old man reappears—not smiling anymore—talking. There is a gleam in the old eyes—very intense. I’m not sure that the old man is friendly anymore. I’m suddenly frightened by him. Others walk out of the room, leaving us alone. The old one continues for a few seconds, and then moves out of my sight.
I rest in bed, feeling strange. It’s indescribable. My head slides into a dizzy spin. At first, I hate it. But after a few moments I give in and it takes me. Somehow it eases the pain.
As my eyes begin to close, I try to think of where I am. I cannot gather a thought though. I have no answer to anything.
My eyes shut closed.
“See you soon,” the old man’s voice whispers very close to my face, chilling me. I can almost feel his lips against my ear.
His words echo through the blackness I slip into.
E I G H T E E N
Darryl awoke with a start. It was sometime during the night. The hallway was quiet. It was bright. They were on alert for Barton, he knew. They would not give him any opportunities this time.
Several bodies walked past his window. No one entered. He remembered that he was checked by several nurses once he was back in his room. Though he fell asleep soon thereafter, he knew that they had not left the room for some time. They were busy looking him over, thoroughly searching for anything that Barton had done to him.
But Barton had not touched him. It was the others in that cell that they needed to be checking. Those people were surely going to die.
Darryl felt safe now—given the circumstances. His bed felt like home. For the first time, he found it comfortable. The light in the hall and the doctors and nurses walking by assured him that no one would be able to sneak into his room. The room had no bars. It was absent to dying people.
Being locked in that cage, even for just the couple of hours he was, had changed things for him. He just wished he knew what had happened to the rest of them. And Adelle. There was still no whispering of where she was.
He sat upright. He felt good, not nauseous like he had most of the time since arriving. Adelle was on his mind. He had information that he needed to share. Whitmere had to know what was down there. He had to inform the doctor so Adelle could be found.
If she hadn’t been already.
Darryl thought about it for only a second before he tossed the sheet off of him and moved out of bed. His mind was made up. Time could not be wasted on waiting for someone to come to him. He walked to the door. Staring out into the hall, he saw two men, doctors he presumed, standing near a desk just a few yards away. He tried to open the door, but it was locked. He thought it was odd, but instantly began to pound on the window. He saw the two men turn towards him immediately. They rushed through the hall and opened his door.
“I need to speak to Whitmere,” Darryl said urgently.
“Are you alright?” one said.
They looked concerned. Darryl shook his head. “I’m fine. But I need to tell him what I found down there. He needs to know.”
“What is this about?” the other asked.
“Did you find Adelle?” Darryl asked.
The men looked at each other quizzically. They had no clue who she was.
“Blonde hair. My age.” Darryl offered. “Doctor Barton had taken her.”
They understood now, but couldn’t help.
“No. You’re the only patient found.” one said.
“Alive,” the other added.
Darryl’s heart sank. Now he felt nauseous. The two doctors said something about the dying patients that were found locked up that they could not help. Barton had changed them. Their insides were altered beyond functioning. All of them died. But Darryl had only heard bits and pieces of what they said. He was too lost thinking that Adelle was dead.
He staggered back, leaning himself against the wall. It was all wrong, he thought. How did they not find her?
The door was closing. The doctors were walking away.
Darryl turned in a panic. “Send Doctor Whitmere! I need to talk to him! Please!”
“Settle down. Go back to bed.” a voice shot back.
They walked out of sight leaving Darryl to wonder if he would see the doctor before morning. He stood looking into the hall for several more minutes before turning back and lying in bed once again. He was anxious and worried.
The door opened suddenly and Darryl jumped with a shout. Doctor Whitmere stalked over to him. He appeared to be in a hurry and had no time for humor or anything of
no importance. Darryl swallowed hard. He had not seen Whitmere look this way before.
“Darryl, I’m glad to see you are awake finally.” Whitmere stopped next to the bed. His eyes were intense.
“Sorry, but I never got to tell you about what had happened.”
Whitmere’s facial expression did not alter. “You were mumbling something when they had found you and brought you to me. I did what I could to decipher your words, but in the end your desire to sleep won.”
Darryl sat upright, wide awake. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I’m sure you underwent a lot before they found you.”
“I was just worried that I’d never be found. Or after it was too late.”
“What have you to tell me, Darryl?”
“I was locked in a room with bars, like a jail cell. There were a few others in there with me. They were sick. Their bodies didn’t look right, and they smelled like they were already dying. I saw one die, actually. He moaned like it hurt so bad, and then he dropped to the floor, hitting his head on the floor, and died. It was just…awful.
“Another patient talked to me. He told me all kinds of things. But then he died too. I don’t know who escaped with me. I never looked back. I ran thinking I was heading for Barton’s lab, or where he was taking the patients. I thought I could find Adelle and save her. The last thing I remembered what feeling the cold floor as I reached some steps.”
“The patient you were speaking with, what did he say to you?”
Get to the point, is what you mean. Darryl saw the expression—the look of annoyance. He must have been sleeping prior to this visit, Darryl thought.
“He was crazy. He told me things like Barton had injected them with things to make their bodies change. That Barton was working on a cure for himself and the patients were guinea pigs. But he didn’t care, because they were already dying. He said the same thing had happened to Barton a long time ago.”
Darryl looked right into the old man’s eyes. They were dark. “Is that true?”
“Yes and no. But that’s irrelevant. He was our captive then. Tests were necessary. Not just for our protection, but for his as well. His lungs would not have sustained our air, for example. And whatever changes did occur in him only helped our studies further.”
“What did he do to those patients to change them like that?”
“Darryl, just be glad you are out of harms reach. If you were left in his care for a few more hours…Well, I doubt you could even imagine.”
“Adelle is though. You need to find her.” Darryl said with urgency.
“Darryl, did you have any sort of contact with Doctor Barton?” Whitmere sighed.
“No.” Darryl said, but then changed his answer. “Wait. He did show up and take a patient. I asked him to take me. But he didn’t.”
“Did he say why that was?”
Darryl’s head shook. “The other patient told me it was because he needed dying patients. He said he would rather die than have Barton experiment on him again.”
Whitmere looked away. He was thinking of what Barton was doing, if he was succeeding, rather. Did he find his cure? Or does he still need to test. Nothing in Darryl’s blood samples showed that Barton had begun work in him. If that was true, then the chances were good that Barton was still failing. And if that was true, he would need further testing. Further testing meant Darryl. Darryl was the only candidate left.
Would he have the nerve to come for Darryl again? Now? Yes, he would. And that will be his downfall.
“Do you have any news on Adelle?” Darryl asked after a few moments of silence.
Whitmere was annoyed. “Assume that she is dead. Or will be shortly. I would not hope to see her again if I were you.”
Darryl frowned. It’s not what he wanted to hear.
Whitmere groaned. “Is there anything else? Anything that the other patients have said that I should know about?”
“No. There wasn’t much conversation. I was more concerned about getting out of there.”
“And we are grateful that you did,” the old one said with a smile. “Okay, you’ve had a strenuous day. I’ll let you get back to sleep.”
“Are you still searching for her?” Darryl lay back, watching the other moved slightly for the door. He knew Whitmere would leave now.
“Our top concern right now is Doctor Barton. If she is discovered, that is fine and wonderful. But right now, he is our greatest threat. And he must be found.”
Whitmere turned and walked for the door. As he opened it, he turned back. “Darryl, I will have to do some extensive testing on you tomorrow. Get some rest.”
Without another word, he left the room.
Darryl looked away from the door and up to the ceiling. He wished he knew where Adelle was. He grew angry with himself for not finding her while he was down there. It had been his chance.
He rolled onto his side. Sleep would not come easy.
Just as he was closing his eyes, the hall lights dimmed to almost nothing at all.
Darryl jumped out of bed in disbelief. His heart pounded. He swallowed hard, rushing to the door. He looked out, expecting to see the alien Barton coming for him. Instead, he saw Whitmere. The doctor was walking with a nurse past his door. Neither were concerned. They walked out of sight. The hall was empty. The lights were off, save for two on each side of his door, which only shined with a faint dull glow.
Darryl frowned. The light had been his ally.
He was scared. He reached the door handle and tugged. It wasn’t locked. It gave in smoothly. He quickly shut it—firmly. He wanted to hear it lock. He pressed against it, still waiting. It gave no sound. He tugged on it again, and it opened. Now he felt small and vulnerable.
Why would they shut the lights off? They know he’s out there.
Panic began to set in. His mind raced with a hundred scenarios—all of them leading to his death. Dark whispers taunted him. There would be nothing positive about this.
An idea clicked inside his head then. It was brighter than all of his dark paranoia. The door was open. He could leave. He could sneak out and search for Adelle. It was crazy, he knew. But almost immediately he began to reason it out. And he didn’t get the feeling from Doctor Whitmere that finding Adelle was of any importance. They may not even be searching for her. It was almost as if they didn’t really care.
But Darryl did.
And the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Before he even realized what he was doing, his hands were on the handle and he was pulling it open. He saw no one. He opened it further, looking down the hall on both sides—no one. It was now or never.
His pulse quickened. His heart beat faster. He stepped away from his door carefully and moved swiftly into the darkness.
N I N E T E E N
A single light shined dimly near the far corner of Doctor Whitmere’s office, several feet behind where the doctor sat. He stared blankly at diagrams of human DNA chains that were plastered against his cabinet doors. His mind was overwhelmed with thoughts of his partner for the last decade. Barton needed to be found. He needed to be destroyed. The Council would not allow Barton’s existence outside of his care, his control. They would make certain that no further mishaps could take place. They had urged Whitmere to remove him twice before, but he had talked them out of it each time. He told them how important Barton’s knowledge was to their experiments, to their goals. They had listened and allowed Whitmere his project then. Now things will change.
The Council would not listen to his pleas this time, he knew. His meeting with them in the morning would be different. He was accepting that they may even punish him for allowing the mess to happen in the first place.
It didn’t have to end this way, he thought angrily.
Whitmere thought about it for a long while. Barton was smart. He was calculated. He was an enemy. Even without having his memory return, he was dangerous to them. Barton would not be talked out of anything now. He would not see their way. He would fi
ght them to the death. And they would win.
Whitmere sighed and closed his eyes. Barton must die.
And yet, at the same time, Whitmere didn’t want to lose him.
He thought back. They had not captured a human with Barton’s intellect before. Once they had unlocked his mind, Barton began evolutionizing their protocol. It was a new way of thinking. He showed them things that they never would have discovered on their own. He became the perfect fit.
“And what are you up to now?” he said out loud to himself. “Have you given yourself what I’ve promised? Have you found your cure, become yourself and no longer mine? You have, haven’t you?”
It was a possibility, Whitmere understood. If Barton hadn’t changed yet, he would.
Whitmere smiled then, in spite of himself, out of full blown jealousy, because he never would have been able to create the cure for Barton. He had never intended on finding one, anyway.
The door opened suddenly. It brought Whitmere out of his chair and to his feet at once. Nurse Jean rushed inside; her head turning in search of him until their eyes met and she shook her head. She gave Whitmere an “I told you so” look.
“He left.”
“Barton?”
“No, the patient; the male; your bait. Your trap backfired.” Jean was irritated. “He walked out of his room and rushed down the hall just after you left.”
Whitmere was confused. “Where does he think he’s going?”
“Your plan failed. I am turning the lights and locks back on.”
“No. Not yet.” Whitmere walked over to her. He saw the frustration in her eyes. His smile was anything but playful. “No, no. I know where he’s going. This will work out still. Instead of Barton coming for him, he’ll lead us right to Barton.”
Jean was not sold. Turning off the security and the lights so Barton would work his way back into the patient’s ward had been a bad idea. “I don’t follow.”
“The girl. He’s looking for the girl.”
Jean’s face lifted with curiosity. “He’s remembered?”
“No. He’s in love.”
Jean grew angry then. “This was a mistake. I told you we should not have taken them both. What will you do now? What will you do when he finds her? I told you this…feeling they have cannot be contained. You cannot suppress it. You cannot burry it. When he finds her and their feelings come back you will have lost both of them. Then there will be three of them out of your control. The Council will be furious!”
“Calm down, Jean.” Whitmere raised his hand, signaling for her to stop ranting.
“Don’t tell me what to do!” Jean’s face sparked with anger. “Our race is dying! And instead of ensuring a breeding of longetivity, you’re playing selfish games!”
Jean glared strongly. She hated Whitmere. “I am going to the Council to share my feelings and insight. If I were you, I would find the male before he finds what he is looking for and make sure Barton is placed where he should have been long ago.”
Whitmere’s smile was cold. “You’ve blinded yourself because of your feelings for him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Barton. You have allowed feelings for him to cloud your judgment. Am I wrong?”
Jean spoke cold and soft. “You don’t know anything about them. You never bothered to learn from them.”
“And the point from that would be what? To live as one?” Whitmere saw her as pathetic. “You’re a failed scientist, Jean. Leave this to me.”
Jean hardened. “The Council pulled me from the project after he was a year in progress. I was needed elsewhere.”
Whitmere laughed. “The Council had nothing to do with it. I demanded it. You lost your edge. When Barton became what he is and the tests were complete, you changed. Your demeanor, your focus, everything. I saw it back then. In your eyes, in the way you spoke to him, in everything that you did with him, I saw it. You stared at him as if he came from your womb. As if you were to protect your creation from all harm, losing sight that he was still nothing more than a patient.”
“You did this?” A melancholy look crept past her angry eyes.
Whitmere stopped short from standing too close. Jean stiffened. Whitmere continued. “I could not let your feelings interfere. We both knew there would be a day when he would be destroyed. A patient is a patient is a patient, Jean. Nothing more.”
“Hypocrite! You keep him for yourself.” Jean’s eyes started to water. “You’re nothing without him. I can see that clearly. You promise him what he wants the most—what you would never even consider giving to him, only to keep him working for you, to keep in favor with the Council.”
“The Council is old and foolish. Because of them and their actions we have died. What I am doing is making our race survive! Me!”
They were quiet for a moment. Jean shook her head. “You’re mad.”
“The Council needs to know only what they need to know, Jean. The patients will be found; the male is simply doing what he thinks is best for her. He believes she is in Barton’s possession. And because he knows everything, he will not side with Barton. If anything, he will only help us capture the other two. It will all work out. I promise you.”
Jean shook her head. “What did you tell him?”
“Only what he needed to know.”
“He didn’t need to know anything,” Jean insisted.
“Are you sure?”
“Are you?” Jean’s irritation threatened to diminish his outlook. “Whatever sort of game you are playing, it needs to stop. Erase their memories and alter what you can. And try to figure out how to do everything without Barton.”
“I did what was necessary, despite what you think. Barton needs to be found against all odds. Me telling the male that Barton is an alien only allows me to use him against Barton. I know what I’m doing, Jean.”
“You told the patient Barton is an alien?” Jean snorted.
“Of course. It is the truth.”
“They are the aliens!”
Whitmere smiled. “Only to us, Jean. We are alien to aliens.”
“You risk too much.” Jean turned for the door, disproval coated her face. “This needs to end. The Council will not be happy.”
Jean stormed out of the lab. Whitmere frowned slightly.
She had been a thorn in his side for years. He thought of how he could remove her from his skin. For a long while he thought nothing else.
T W E N T Y
Adelle froze. Shadows entered the room a second before the guards arrived. It was too late to run, too late to hide. It was too late to do anything. In the back of her head, she expected Doctor Barton to descend from the vent and somehow save her. But it was too late for even that.
Four men dressed in red uniforms rushed in. Upon seeing her, they came to a sudden halt. Adelle caught them by surprise, standing by herself, eyes filled with terror.
Adelle panicked. “Help me! Doctor Barton was here!” she cried.
The trick worked. It had captured their attention, changed their focus. They turned away from her quickly and began to search the room. Two of them stood next to her, not allowing her to leave. They needed to take her back to the upper levels and report their finding.
Adelle knew it was over if she did not act. She could not go back with them. And they would make her.
“Where did he go?” the one closest to her asked. His face was mean. His eyes gleamed. “Which way?”
Adelle pointed out the door and to the left. Two guards rushed out immediately. The other two hesitated, deciding who would escort her. They argued briefly. Neither wanted to touch the girl, and the real reward would only come with Barton’s capture. Turning in Adelle meant one of them would be removed from a shot at glory.
But the shorter guard, the one with the flabby skin and pointy nose, gave in and accepted his fate. The other bolted from the room immediately.
Adelle heard the guard grunt in response. He reached for her arm. She swallowed hard. She could feel th
e anxiety explode from deep within her, speeding throughout her body, as she punched the guard in the head with everything that she had. The guard was caught unprepared, struck hard enough to knock him unconscious before he hit the floor.
Adelle shrieked. It was an explosion of fear and adrenaline mixed with the slight pain in her hand. It wasn’t until she saw him lying on the floor unmoving that she realized what she had done.
The other guards were yelling at each other down the hall. They were still searching. She had a few moments alone. But the fear paralyzed her with uncertainty. She stood motionless for far too long. She still felt trapped. If she tried to flee now, the guards in the hall would have her. This time they would not be fooled. If she waits another minute, the guard on the floor would come to. She hated the thought of what would happen then.
One guard yelled in the hall, further down from the room Adelle was in. She raced to the door and snuck a quick glance. Far down the hall to her left the guards were entering another room. Good, she thought.
She began acting before fully thinking anything through. She moved fast, pulling and yanking the body across the floor. She would hide him, bind his hands and gag him. When there was a chance, the others would get the same treatment.
She looked around the room and saw a cabinet. It was short and undersized, but would have to do. She stuffed his body inside the cabinet and closed the doors. She saw a few short iron rods on the countertop. She used one to bar the cabinet doors shut, and took the other two rods with her.
Now what?
She rushed to the door, carefully peering out once again. It was clear.
With a rod in each hand, she stepped into the hall. She would run as fast as she could out of there, she thought. But to where?
It didn’t matter. The guards did not give her time to ponder.
“Hold on!” one yelled.
“Get her!” another followed.
Adelle turned in response. Somehow all of the guards were closing in fast. How did I miss them?
“Don’t move!” another yelled.
Adelle squeezed the rods hard. She slowly inhaled deep. Wait, she told herself. Let them find me innocent. A little closer.
The guards slowed their approach as if they were capturing an animal and didn’t want to frighten it. Adelle heard them whispering as they circled her.
“How do we kill it?” one hushed.
“No. Whitmere wants them alive.”
“What if we have to?” he asked again.
“Cover their mouths, or squeeze their necks. They die easily.” one answered.
Adelle shivered. Their attempts at secrecy failed. She took offense to their last remark. She would die hard.
Slowly they moved in on her. Her back was against the wall, and out before her in every direction stood an advancing guard. She remained still, waiting. Her eyes met each of theirs in short, quick glances. They were hard and purposeful, filled with hate, and something Adelle found frightening.
Then all at once they rushed her.
Darryl contained his search to the darkest halls. If the lights were dim, faint, or out, he was there. He knew it would lead him to Barton.
He saw no one in his roaming. The halls were empty. He found that odd. He didn’t have a good idea where everyone would be. Someone surely must be working. But the evidence all pointed to him being alone.
He had left his room about ten minutes ago, turned down a few hallways, descended a staircase, and now stood in a long corridor with barred doors on both sides. It looked familiar. He thought he had found the hall that Barton had him locked away in. It gave him hope.
He moved slowly and cautiously, peering into the near darkness ahead and straining his ears for any movements. He passed by two rooms that were empty. Silence fell over everything.
Almost near the end of the hall, he saw that it branched to his left and right. He stood at its center for a few minutes trying to decide which way to go. He played his instincts and went left. More doors, more silence.
Then he heard something. It was faint; he couldn’t tell what it was.
Darryl stopped and froze. He could hear his heart pound against his ribs. He waited for a few moments in silence. Then he heard it again. He turned, realizing that he had went the wrong way. He moved quicker, knowing the noise was much further away. He still wasn’t sure what it was.
And then he heard a grunt—hard and terrible. It was filled with anguish and exertion. A fight, he realized. Adelle! He moved faster. The noise began to filter; there were several distinct sounds. A man’s voice, angry and violent, stood out above the others.
Barton!
Adelle rose from the floor. She checked herself for injury. She didn’t bother looking down;
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