Strands of Fate

by R F Hurteau

  The man led him into another small room, this one less like a reception area and more like an abandoned shower. There were vents lining the walls above stark white tiles, and a drain in the middle of the floor beneath a small folding table with a chair on either side, the only furniture in the room.

  A door in the opposite wall featured frosted glass through which a bright white glow emanated. Eli stared at it as the man took one of the chairs and gestured to the other.

  “I’ve just got a few questions for you Eli,” the man was saying, still referring to his paperwork as he spoke, never once glancing up at him. “Nothing too taxing, don’t worry.”

  Eli answered his questions in a flat monotone, still mesmerized by the door.

  What lay beyond? What was this place—what was it really?—and what would happen to him after this?

  So far, it hardly seemed much different than the infirmary at Next Level. In fact, despite the impersonal nature of his interviewer, he found the man to have a more pleasant personality than the nurses he’d dealt with in the past.

  Perhaps he’d been wrong about this place.

  “Very well, I believe that’s everything. We’ll begin the physical assessment now. Please remain here for a moment.”

  Eli was about to question this when the man rose, abruptly exiting through the frosted glass door and closing it behind him with a definitive click of the latch.

  Eli heard a faint beep, and then a hissing. Looking for the source, his eyes were drawn upward to the vents.

  A thick white vapor had begun to pour from them, cascading down the walls like a waterfall.

  “What is this?” Eli asked, feeling the beginning of panic. “What’s going on?”

  “Please remain seated,” said a voice through an unseen intercom. “We don’t want you to injure yourself.”

  The dense fog had begun to puddle on the floor now, the level rising rapidly until it reached his knees, breaking against them in little waves, forming dips and whorls as he backed up, trying in vain to escape it.

  “Stop,” he said, his voice weak. Then, louder. “Please, stop! What is this? What are you doing?”

  “It would be best if you sat,” the voice repeated calmly.

  The heavy mist had reached his waist, and though it did not inhibit his movement, it reacted to it.

  He swatted at it, pushing, and it bobbed back and forth in swirls and eddies.

  When it caressed his neck, Eli looked up. He spotted the intercom up high in the corner of the room beside a small camera with a blinking red light.

  “Please!”

  He stared into the black eye of the camera, beseeching whoever was watching to stop this. “Please, just tell me what’s happening.”

  There was no answer as the vapor lapped against his face.

  In desperation, Eli climbed onto the table, which wobbled dangerously beneath his unexpected weight.

  Still the mist rose higher, undeterred. He stood on tiptoes now, but it didn’t matter. In another moment the fog had filled the room, burying him in its depths.

  Eli squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath. He jumped blindly off the table and bolted in the direction of the door, pounding on it. His lungs burned until, at last, he could not hold out any longer.

  He gasped, inhaling the vapor. It was tasteless, but cold. Eli’s short, panicked breaths drew it in, over and over, and he found himself dizzy.

  The white world around him spun, and Eli felt himself falling.

  But he did not feel himself hit the floor.

  ***

  “Hey, wake up. My break’s almost over.”

  The voice was too loud, and somewhat familiar, but Eli’s head felt like it was on the verge of exploding.

  He squeezed his eyes tighter, not wanting to open them. He wanted to go back to sleep.

  Maybe the next time he awoke, the pain would be gone. Or at least, diminished.

  “Come on. I tell ya, you’re going to give Corp Orps a bad name. People are gonna think all you do is laze around all day.”

  Corp Orps.

  “Shane?”

  Eli opened his eyes and looked up at the blond boy, whose face loomed uncomfortably close.

  With a grin Shane straightened up, causing Eli to squint as the glaring ceiling lights flooded over him. He groaned.

  “Too bright.”

  But as reality came back into focus, he shot up into a sitting position. “I have to find Mabel!”

  “Relax,” Shane said, “I’ve already spoken to her. She’s alright. They just put her in separate quarters. But you’ve both been assigned to the same ward, so you’ll see her around soon enough. Volunteers have quite a bit of freedom to roam.”

  Eli’s heart sank, and a wave of nausea threatened to overtake him.

  So she was here, after all. She hadn’t escaped the clutches of Val Int.

  Eli felt a burst of anger toward his parents before directing it back to himself. This was not their fault.

  It was his.

  Shane gave Eli a meaningful look. “That is, as long as they don’t cause any trouble. Anyway, our whole unit has been assigned to a long-term security detail here. At least, for as long as it takes to get Belenus up and running. I’m assigned to Ward Three, so you’ll be seeing plenty of me, too! Some luck, eh?”

  Eli looked around the room. It was long and narrow, and he was in one of a dozen cots placed in two neat rows along opposing walls.

  He looked down and found he was not in the clothes he had arrived in, but rather a flowy white tunic and, when he lifted the blanket, matching linen pants.

  “How did I get changed?” he asked in concern. “I don’t remember changing.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t remember,” Shane said, his tone growing noticeably grim. “Listen, Eli, my break is almost over. So let me give it to you straight here. You’ve been out of commission for three days.”

  “Three days?”

  This sent Eli’s panic skyrocketing. Tossing the blanket off, he swept his legs out of the bed, almost knocking Shane off in the process. He stood but stopped at a sudden feeling of wooziness.

  “I need to find Mabel, now. She’s got to be worried about me.”

  “She already knows,” Shane said, standing himself. “She went through the same process.”

  The chamber full of vapor, the terror he’d felt, came flooding back.

  “What process, exactly?” he asked. The darkness in his own voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “Just what did they do to me back there?”

  Shane’s hands flew up in a defensive shrug, his palms upturned.

  “Hey, I’m just a military man, Eli. They don’t tell me much by way of details, and I know better than to ask.” He let his hands drop to his sides. “But there are a couple of things I wanted to give you a heads-up about.”

  “And what about all these beds?” Eli interrupted Shane once more to indicate the empty, neatly made cots. “Am I the only one here?”

  “No,” Shane said, “they’re all full. They’re just all indisposed. You’ll find they come and go a lot. It’s rare for everyone to be in here at the same time—”

  “Come on,” Eli said. “Show me where Mabel is.”

  As he reached out to grab Shane’s arm, his sleeve slipped down into the crook of his elbow. He stared down at his forearm where a clear, bold tattoo declared in thick black ink, “W3V3-12.”

  “What’s...that?” he whispered.

  He stared at the nonsensical numbers and letters, his brain still foggy enough that he had to concentrate as he tried to recall if they’d always been there.

  But no, the raised red skin around the markings seemed to indicate that they were fresh. He pressed two fingers against the symbols, resulting in a dull ache that radiated outward.

  “It’s your designation,” Shane said, matching Eli’s hushed tones. “Ward 3, that’s this place. Volunteer 3, Room 12. The second 3 is your assigned bed. So that they always put you back in the rig
ht spot.”

  “Put me...back...”

  Eli felt a sort of mad laughter gurgling up in his throat, and it came out in a harsh croak. “I always knew Val Int was putting labels on people, at least here they’re honest about it!”

  He waved his arm in Shane’s face, causing the taller boy step back. “Where’s yours, can I see? Is it black, too, or do military personnel get fancy gold ones or something?”

  Shane frowned at him. “I don’t have one,” he said, “I’m not actually...you know.”

  Eli raised an eyebrow. “Not actually what? Property of Val Int?” He scoffed. “Maybe they haven’t tattooed you, Shane, but we’re all just resources to them.”

  “No, I just meant—forget it. Anyway, there’s one other thing before we—”

  The sound of the door opening drew both of their attention, and Eli saw the familiar brown curls first.

  “Shane, they’ve just finished with me for the day, is he—”

  “Mabel!”

  Eli raced to her, brushing past Shane and embracing his sister so hard she might not be able to breathe.

  Mabel clung to him, and somehow, he found himself weeping.

  They were in Antarctica, in a strange lab full of strange experiments and he had no idea what the future held. But they were together. They had each other.

  That would have to be enough.

  It always had been before.

  “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry for all of this.”

  “It’s okay,” Mabel said, and he marveled at the irony of her comforting him , given the situation. “We’re going to be okay.”

  She kept repeating it, and Eli wanted to believe her. He wanted to, but he couldn’t.

  Pulling back, he rubbed his nose, embarrassed for causing a scene as Shane stood awkwardly by the wayside.

  “I’m...uh...” Shane said, biting the side of his lip and looking around, pretending not to have seen. “I’m going to get back. I’ll check on you again after my shift ends, all right?”

  Eli was grateful. He turned back to Mabel, wanting to see her warm, familiar smile.

  The sight that greeted him nearly sent him toppling backward.

  He took a few steps back, but she reached out and grasped his hand to stop him.

  “It’s okay,” she assured him. “It’s still me.”

  Mabel’s deep brown eyes shimmered, a golden hue that had not been there before making them flash and gleam as if they had their own source of light.

  He could see his own reflection in them as clearly as in a mirror, their surface like dewdrops caught in a sunbeam.

  “What did they do to you?” he asked, anger bubbling up to replace his relief at seeing her. “Did they hurt you? What’s happened to your eyes?”

  She offered a reassuring smile and led him back to his bed as she spoke.

  “All of the Ward 3 volunteers are like this,” she told him calmly. “It’s one of the tests they performed when we first arrived. It shows whether or not we’re suitable for the work they’re doing here. Something about gene manipulation...I haven’t gotten all the details. It also works as a sort of failsafe. To protect their research.” Here she frowned. “If any of us were to...escape...somehow, we’d be very easy to track down. At least, that’s the consensus of the other volunteers.”

  Eli cocked his head to one side, squinting at them.

  They were beautiful, if he were being honest about it. Mesmerizing, even. This must have been what Shane was trying to tell him before.

  “So, then...are mine...?”

  Mabel nodded and smiled, looking relieved that he was taking things so well.

  “Yes,” she told him. “Yours are different, too.”

  Curiosity got the best of Eli. “What color?” he heard himself asking.

  “Sort of a deep violet,” she told him, still smiling. “Very regal.”

  It felt good, sitting here beside Mabel and laughing. Eli didn’t even care that they were laughing over the involuntary modification of their own bodies, or the fact that they were now slaves to a system he despised. He didn’t care that they were trapped on a forsaken continent on a dying world.

  He was just happy not to be alone anymore.

  ***

  The weeks that followed took their toll on Eli, but he did his best to hide it for Mabel’s sake.

  He had the nagging feeling that she was doing the same for him; deep shadows had begun to form beneath her glimmering eyes, and her smiles were less frequent as time went on.

  The researchers of Cedar Grove lost no time in putting the twins to work. Most of the experiments thus far had been merely uncomfortable, but not intolerable.

  The employees were, it seemed, delighted to have twins among their new acquisitions. As a result, Mabel and Eli often took part in the same trials, sometimes with one or the other acting as a sort of control. This meant that their time off coincided as well.

  Shane did his best to stop by every few days when his schedule allowed it. Between the recruit’s knowledge of the goings on in the facility and Mabel’s innate ability to befriend anyone she came across, Eli was able to make quick work of understanding their new life here.

  Cedar Grove Innovative Technologies was, primarily, a medical facility. Each Ward had a different specialty, and only those with the proper set of genes could join the exclusive group in Ward Three.

  Ward One dealt in pharmaceutical trials. They would infect people with incurable diseases, then attempt to create vaccines to prevent or even cure them.

  Ward Two was Surgical Innovations, where new technologies were being developed in tissue regeneration.

  And Ward Three focused on genetic manipulation. Advanced Modification, they called it. Their ultimate goal? Increasing longevity.

  Indefinitely.

  Today, Eli was waiting for Mabel to return from an infrequent experiment where she was paired up with another female subject instead of Eli. He’d been hoping Shane would stop by. He’d been waiting for a chance to grill the recruit without his sister around. Eli wanted to know more about this place, about the dark underbelly of Cedar Grove Innovative Technologies.

  But he also didn’t want to upset Mabel with the details. If only Shane would show up, this would be the perfect opportunity.

  But Shane had only just arrived when the door opened again.

  It was not Mabel returning, but an orderly. He looked down at his sheet and up at Eli.

  “W3V3-12?” he asked. Eli nodded. “With me, please.”

  Shane murmured his farewells as Eli moved out into the hallway, following the orderly through several sets of double doors past rooms that were now becoming uncomfortably familiar.

  He and Mabel fought fear with humor, giving the rooms names. This time, Eli passed by the Run Until Your Heart Explodes room, as well as the Super Fun Electrocution room and, his personal favorite, the Float in the Void Until You Question Your Existence room.

  Still, these were nothing compared to some of the questionable trials that his bunkmates had endured.

  Linus, the dreadlock-sporting youth in bed twelve, often woke in the night, soaked in a cold sweat and screaming. He didn’t speak much about what they did to him, but a few of the others mentioned that he’d been transferred from Ward Two.

  Eli tried to tell himself that it was the trauma he endured down there, and not something the twins might face here, that left him with such inescapable nightmares.

  Reggie, gangly and bright-eyed at age nine, spoke quite a bit. More, to be quite honest, than Eli would have liked.

  Despite his tender age, he had been in Ward Three longer than any of the others in Room 12. He’d told Eli how many had come and gone before. That many went off to trials one day and just...never returned.

  When pressed, the youth could not confirm whether they had been transferred or whether some worse fate had befallen them.

  “Here,” said the orderly, pointing to a room that Eli had not entered before.

  Oh
, yay, he thought dryly. Surprises.

  Inside, two technicians were fussing with an unfamiliar piece of equipment. A tall metal cylinder with a single glass pane in the front stood bolted to the wall. Feelings of claustrophobia clawed their way up from Eli’s gut even as he struggled to force them back down. He refused to cause trouble. He refused to do anything that might diminish his time with Mabel. He would comply with whatever he was asked to do, no matter the discomfort.

  “W3V3-12?” one of the technicians asked brusquely by way of greeting.

  Eli nodded once again.

  “Very good. Right inside, if you please.”

  Clenching his fists, Eli stepped up and into the open hatch and turned back to face the technician.

  “Try to relax,” she told him.

  Easy for you to say, Eli retorted in his head. You’re not the one being shut in this metal coffin.

  A lump rose in his throat as the hatch was closed, and he watched out the tiny window as the technicians walked around the machine, pressing buttons and knobs.

  He felt a stabbing pain in his arm, but the space was so confined it was difficult to tell what it was.

  Wrenching his neck at an uncomfortable angle, he managed to make out a small needle protruding near his shoulder. The mechanical arm that had placed it receded back into the metal casing of the machine, and Eli waited.

  He did not have to wait long.

  The pain was both sudden and excruciating. Eli found himself listening to the sound of one long, unceasing wail. So great was his suffering that he barely registered that it was coming from him.

  His body tried to writhe in protest of the fire he was certain was consuming him. It burned, his whole being burned. It felt as though his very bones would crumble to ash, so great was the sensation of heat.

  Why couldn’t he smell it? Why couldn’t he smell the acrid scent of burning flesh?

  Was it because he had stopped breathing?

  His eyes flew open, searching for release, searching for a way out.

  They fell on the only thing there was, the tiny window to the outside world, to the place that was not on fire.

  He saw the technicians out there, dutifully taking notes as he perished in the invisible flames.