Love, Lattes and Mutants

by Sandra Cox

  “Hello.” His masculine voice is melodious, like mine. There’s one other giveaway. His eyes are turquoise. For a moment, I forget the terror that weakens my bowels. Underneath the fear, I feel a tiny spurt of happiness. I’m not alone in the universe.

  “Hello.” I do nothing to disguise my voice. With him, there’s no reason.

  He gives me a slow smile that stretches across his face and reaches his beautiful eyes. I’ve never thought of my own as being beautiful, more of a nuisance. After looking at his, I might have to reevaluate.

  “Where am I?”

  “Why have they strapped you down?” he asks at the same time. Both of us laugh. Given the circumstances, it’s unbelievable that I can laugh at all.

  Before either of us can respond, the door opens again. A silver-haired man of indeterminate age steps in. He wears a crisp white lab coat and has a stethoscope slung round his neck. His scent is as sterile as the room; his face holds no expression. His lips are thin, almost reptilian. My skin crawls and I push against the mattress.

  “Joel.” The doctor turns toward the dolph-boy.

  At least I now know his name.

  “Dr. Stranger.” He nods.

  “I see you discovered our guest.”

  “Yes.” He smiles at me then looks at the doctor. “Why is she in restraints?”

  The doctor appears surprised at the question. “I deemed it necessary.”

  “But…”

  Dr. Stranger interrupts. “Joel, leave us for a bit. You can show our guest around the premises later. Right now I need to examine her.”

  Conflict flickers across Joel’s features. He obviously doesn’t want to leave me nor does he want to stay for a physical exam that could be an embarrassment to us both.

  “I won’t hurt her and I promise I’ll remove the restraints. You can show her around after lunch.”

  Joel nods. He gives me a reassuring smile and a promise. “I’ll be back.”

  As soon as the door shuts, the doctor pulls out a key and unlocks a small white cabinet on the far wall. He pulls out a needle and syringe, looks at it, and flicks it with his finger.

  “What is that?” My body stiffens. My muscles tense. If I could figure out a way, I’d fight.

  “Just something to help you relax. You want those restraints off, don’t you?”

  “You can’t do that without shooting me up?” I turn my head as far to the side as I can get it and still keep an eye on that needle.

  “It’s for your own good. Trust me.”

  “Right.” Like I’ve never heard that one before.

  He swabs my arm. The scent of alcohol sickens me. He sticks my arm with the needle. I barely feel the prick. What I do feel is the medication traveling through my veins, relaxing my body as it moves through it, making it heavy. I try to fight it but a strange lethargy takes possession of me.

  “I’m going to remove your restraints.” He unbuckles the arm bands.

  I try to gather myself for flight, but I can’t seem to pull myself together, uncoordinated as a rag doll. A remote portion of my brain that the drug either hasn’t reached or can’t is shrieking. Fight! The medication doesn’t touch the fear. The fear is still there. I can’t remember a time I’ve been this terrified of anything. It’s so strong, I swear I could choke on it.

  “Why don’t you shower? I’ll have the nurse lay out some clothes for you, then bring you to my office. I’ll answer any questions you have. After that someone will show you to your room.”

  I don’t respond, just stare straight ahead. After he leaves, I push off the bed. I grab the frame to keep from crumpling. Maybe the shower will help me shake off the effects of this drug and I can get out of here.

  I step into the bathroom. It’s spacious but sterile like the other room. I let the sack-shaped, limp hospital gown fall to the floor. I reach to unfasten my distress watch and realize for the first time, it’s gone.

  A single tear slips out and trails down my cheek as I grasp the fact I’ve lost the last connection to my grandfather. I can only hope by the time they discovered it, Gramps had my location. Holding that thought like a lifeline, I step carefully into the warm spray. Along with the water comes a light, floral aroma. The water must trigger a valve that releases the scent. The combination soothes and falls on my skin like spring rain.

  I stand beneath the warm wet beads, my hands against the wall. The needles of water from the jets massage my body, making it tingle. For a few blissful moments, the fear of being strapped to a table and cut on recedes. Not altogether, but enough where I can function.

  I step out, towel dry my hair, and with clumsy steps move into the adjoining room.

  Clothes are laid out on the bed: a white, short-sleeved silk blouse and tan khaki shorts. A little preppie for my taste but that’s the least of my concerns. The shower offset some of the sluggishness the drug caused, unfortunately not enough for me to make a run for it. Awkwardly, I get dressed.

  My stomach rumbles. It’s been a while since I ate. I’m not even sure what time it is.

  I wonder if the door is locked. I get up and walk toward it.

  As if on cue, a perky young woman comes through it. She’s dressed in a traditional white nurse’s uniform that rustles when she walks. She looks fresh out of college, with curly, shoulder-length auburn hair. She’s not at all what I expect of someone who cuts into people’s brains for a living.

  Smiling, she walks toward me, her hand outstretched. “I’m your nurse. My name is Casey.”

  I back away. I don’t trust her. I can’t trust anyone in this Godforsaken place, except perhaps the dolph-boy, my kindred spirit.

  She stops and smiles encouragingly. “I won’t hurt you.”

  “You’re my nurse?”

  “Um-hm. I’ve come to take you to Dr. Stranger’s office.” She opens the door and waits for me. I stare at her, frozen in place. Are they going to cut on me?

  “Come on, dear.”

  I weigh my options. Better to walk out under my own steam than be hit with more drugs and end up in his office anyway.

  I’m wearing a pair of tan Tirra sandals that were left by the bed. The rubber soles muffle the sound as we walk across the white marble floor. To be more accurate, Casey walks. I shuffle along like an old woman.

  I glance from side to side looking for exits. Where are the guards? Where is security? Does he keep personnel at a minimum because of the experiments? As we walk, I see the tiny red glow of security cameras along the hall. Security may not be visible, but someone is watching somewhere.

  We turn down a hall and the white marble gives way to lush white carpet. The walls are no longer white but a soft powder blue. Peaceful seascapes hang on the wall. To my inexperienced eye, they look expensive.

  With each step, I become more nervous. A fine sheen of perspiration beads on my forehead. If it weren’t for my feet feeling like they’re encased in cement, I’d make a break for it, even if it’s one of the stupidest things I could do right now. The truth is I’m scared spitless.

  “Where are we?” I ask, as much for information as to keep the fear at bay over what awaits me.

  “In a private clinic. A very nice one.”

  “Where is this nice private clinic located?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Really?” How can she not know? She works here.

  “Because the nature of the doctor’s work is top secret, we are flown in and out. I know it’s on an island.” She smiles brightly. “I live here most of the time. When I want to take vacation or visit my family, I’m flown home. One word of indiscretion, I’d be fired without a reference.”

  “You’re okay with that?”

  “Sure. It’s only for a couple of years and then I’ll retire.”

  Huh. The pay must be very good indeed.

  “It’s like being in the air force or peace corps.” She giggles. She stops at a thick set of double doors and knocks.

 
“Come in.”

  We step into a richly appointed office. Everything is dark wood and leather, a masculine room. The doctor sits behind a large mahogany desk.

  A wide window is on the far wall. I swear I can smell salt water through the glass. It draws me. With a shambling gait, I walk toward it. We are on a bluff that overlooks the sea. I breathe deep and long, trying to gain strength from the waves below for whatever is to come.

  “Thank you, Casey. That will be all.”

  “Yes, doctor.” Her bubbly personality is subdued.

  He waits for her to leave then leans back in a black leather chair, which sighs with his movements. He motions to a matching chair across from the desk. “Won’t you sit down?”

  I straighten my shoulders. I will not show fear, though it’s almost impossible to hide the tremors running through me. I bite my lip and shuffle to the chair where I sit on the edge of the buttery-soft leather.

  He steeples his fingers and studies me, his manner clinical. “What’s your name?”

  “Piper.” My voice is strained. I clasp my hands to stop the tremors.

  “Piper what?”

  “Just Piper.” I don’t want this monster to have any connection to my grandfather.

  “We’ll let that go for now. I examined you while you slept. I also drew some blood. Your DNA is very interesting.”

  I feel violated. The idea of him touching me makes me nauseous. “Would I be correct in assuming you are ultimately responsible for it?” I try to keep the loathing out of my voice. The answer is important.

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Joel. He’s like me, isn’t he?”

  He seems pleased with my response. “You’re a perceptive young woman.”

  I shift on the chair and the expensive leather whispers. I’d like to buy Gramps a recliner made of this stuff. The thought brings me up short. Will I ever see my Gramps again? Has my disappearance set him back? Is he in the hospital? Pain washes through me. I clamp it down. I don’t want this monster to see it. He would find a way to use it against me.

  He leans back in his chair, still studying me. “I started my research when I was a young man. With the right investors, it’s proved quite profitable.”

  I interrupt. “Are there many like me?”

  “No, not many. But the few that exist have made me millions.

  “One of my finest creations, along with her keepers, was lost at sea during a terrible storm. Or so I thought. You carry her DNA. You are very like her. How fortuitous for me you were determined to free my dolphins.”

  Chapter 28

  His finest creation…he’s referring to my mom. This is the man who turned my beautiful mother into a lab rat and made her life a living hell. Is he responsible for her death as well? Had he found her, chased her, trying to get her back? I want to beat my fists against his chest, shred his expressionless face with my nails, and shriek at the top of my lungs. I lunge to my feet.

  He studies me coolly. “I can inject you with drugs that will put you into a permanent coma and still harvest your body parts. Now be a good girl and sit down.”

  I stand clenching and unclenching my hands. Reluctantly, I sink back in the chair. Instead of ripping his eyes out, I ask, “What do you mean your dolphins?”

  “I have found the dolphins off the California coast have the best temperaments for my experiments.”

  My stomach rolls: first my mom, now my poor dolphins. He killed my father, too. I can’t prove it, but deep inside I know it.

  He takes off his glasses and cleans them, inspects the lens, then puts them back on. “Sacrifices must be made for science.”

  “Science or money?” Bastard.

  “Often the two go hand in hand.”

  “Lucky for you.”

  “Yes, isn’t it?”

  “What do you intend to do with me?”

  He taps his fingertips. “Since your mother took the mixing of dolphin blood and human blood to the next level, I’d be curious to see the results of a third generation.”

  Ice chills my blood. “You plan to use me as a brood mare?”

  “Nothing so plebian, I assure you. You are a miracle of science. I want you to be part of creating another miracle.”

  What exactly does this madman have in mind? Surely, he’s not thinking about Joel. Is he?

  “What if I say no?”

  He doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Instead, he glances at his watch. “I’m going to have Casey show you to your room. We can talk more later.” He pulls out his phone and speed dials. “Casey, Piper is ready to go to her room.”

  I looked at the phone. “Can I call my grandfather?”

  “There will be no contact with the outside world. This is your home now. I trust you’ll find it pleasant.”

  My home? My home is with Gramps. The ocean. But not this house of horrors. My God what if I find myself strapped to a table and a fin added behind my blowhole? My stomach heaves. I feel sick. Bile rises in my throat. It takes every ounce of willpower I possess to keep from throwing up.

  A knock sounds at the door.

  “Come in.”

  Casey opens the door. I push up from the chair. I’ve got to get out of here.

  “Send a tray to her room. After she’s eaten, have Joel show her around the facilities.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She smiles at me. I follow her out the door and fall in step beside her. The drug that makes me feel encased in cement is wearing off. We walk to the elevator and step in. Casey pushes the button for four and we glide up.

  Should I try to overpower her? A security camera is in the upper corner of the elevator. No good.

  The door opens and we’re in a large suite. In the center is a big screen TV that rivals any theatre I’ve been in, along with a game station, stereo and a cappuccino machine. A table sits in the corner, next to a fridge and microwave. A middle-aged woman dressed in a blue uniform is stocking the refrigerator. She smiles and nods when we walk by. If she’s carrying a weapon, it’s concealed.

  The lounge is larger than our cottage back home. There are three doors on each side. Casey heads for the furthest on the left. She opens the door and motions me in.

  The room is a combination bedroom-sitting room, the bedroom set back in a large alcove. The walls are a pale coral, and a pink and coral duvet covers the queen-size bed. A painting of a sunset done in pinks, red, and coral draws the eye to the far wall. But what catches and holds my gaze is the view.

  It’s similar to the one on the second floor, all craggy rocks and ocean below. It draws me. I walk to the window and give myself to the pull of the sea. How long will it be before I feel the silken caress of waves against my skin, like the beckoning arms of one’s beloved?

  “How do you like it?”

  “It’s fine.” For a prison.

  “Is there anything you need?”

  A way out of here. I shake my head. She sounds more like a social secretary than a nurse, but I don’t doubt she works effectively in either capacity.

  “Are you hungry?”

  On cue, my stomach juices start rolling in my tummy.

  She points at an intercom on the wall. “Just press the button and talk into the intercom. Order whatever you like.”

  “Anything?”

  “Pretty much. I’ll just check your vitals before I go.”

  “Is that necessary?”

  “Probably not. But it’s my job.” She checks my pulse, blood pressure and takes my temperature.

  “Everything is great. Your blood pressure is a little high but since you’re in new surroundings, it’s nothing to worry about.”

  New surroundings sounds much more socially acceptable than kidnapped.

  She walks to the door, turns, and smiles. “If you need me, just call me on the intercom. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  The door swings silently shut behind her. I hurry to the door and c
rack it open. Casey is gone, but the woman who was filling the refrigerator lounges in a nearby chair reading a magazine. It’s then I notice the Taser on her hip. I let the door close.

  I walk around the room. No escape exits except through the door. I also look for a security camera but don’t see one in the room. It’s either well hidden or I’ve caught a break.

  The hollow feeling in my stomach is more than just nerves. When was the last time I ate? With Gramps. My knees give. I grab the edge of the sofa. Hopelessness overwhelms me. I take a deep breath, then another and another. Finally, my fight comes back along with my spine. Gramps didn’t raise a quitter. I will get out of here. In the meantime, I need to keep my strength up. Determined, I stride to the intercom and press the button.

  “How may I help you?” The tinny voice echoes from the intercom.

  “I’d like lunch.”

  “What would you like?”

  Talking to the wall is odd, even for me. I persevere. “I’d like a hamburger, fries, and a mocha latte.”

  “Okay, it will be around twenty minutes.”

  “Thank you.” I click off and take a closer look at the room. There’s a pretty little white desk with a laptop and a bookshelf over it. I run a finger over the titles: thrillers, YAs, and philosophy.

  I sink down in the chair. Does the computer have Internet hookup? I open the cover, nothing but games, Word, and Excel. I hadn’t expected anything. That would have been too easy.

  A few minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. A woman with graying hair scraped back from her face walks in and sets a tray in front of me. The smell makes my mouth water. I bite into the burger hungrily. I take a healthy sip of my latte. I swear it’s the best I’ve ever had.

  I clean my plate in an embarrassingly short time. I’m crunching on the last, still-hot fry when someone knocks on my door again.

  I jump up, prepared to run, though I have no idea where. “Who is it?”

  The door opens. I let out my held breath and relax. Joel stands in the doorway, smiling, a young girl beside him. I can’t decide who’s prettier: him or Tyler. They both take my breath away.

  “Hi, Piper.”

  “Hi, Joel.” I know I’m wearing a goofy grin, but that’s okay. He is, too.