by H. I. Defaz
I shook my head and laughed.
I finally made it back into the lab, with one hand juggling my bag and the other swinging behind my back, trying to close the damned gown, which kept opening no matter what I did. “I really hate these things,” I told the nurse, who was waiting for me outside the door.
She shook her head with a big grin on her face and took the bag from my hand. After storing it in a compartment underneath my capsule, she put her hands on my shoulders and spun me around before I could say a word. “Are you nervous?” she asked, as she tightened the strings behind my back.
I laughed, feeling an excessive amount of blood rushing to my face. “Well, truth be told, I wasn't until now.”
She giggled as she finished tightened my gown.
She then grabbed a controller, with which she positioned the capsule at a forty-five-degree angle, opened the glass top, and asked me to hop inside. I have to admit I got very nervous at that point. I had no idea what was going to happen, or if this procedure was even going to work on me. After all, Dr. Walker had said that it all depended on how well a particular patient responded to the serum—and that of course, there were no guarantees. I was juggling these thoughts in my head when Dr. Walker arrived with his medical team. My heart began to race then.
“All right, Victor,” Dr. Walker said excitingly. “We're going to prep you now. These electrodes are going to keep track of your brainwaves as well as your vital signs and...” Dr. Walker kept on explaining, while the rest of the medical team began to connect my head and body to a series of electrodes, wires, and IV lines. The tumult was such that it became very difficult to follow anything Dr. Walker was saying.
Up until then, that is.
“You'll be awake for the first part of the procedure,” I heard him say, as people moved out of my way. “The serum will be injected directly into your bloodstream. Now, this may feel strange at first. But I need you to remain calm, okay? It's all part of the procedure. Once the serum reaches your brain, you'll be put under general anesthesia. Then we'll continue to Phase Two. Your brain will be exposed to a precise series of radiation pulses in order to activate the serum, just like I explained before. Clear so far?”
“Yes, Doctor…” My voice sounded shaky and unconvincing.
“There are cameras as well as microphones installed inside the capsule, which means that we can not only see you, but we can hear you as well. You have nothing to worry about.” He tried to reassure me with a warm smile, “Relax, Victor. Everything's going to be fine.”
They finally put an oxygen mask over my face, and Dr. Walker asked me for a good-to-go sign, to which I responded with solid thumbs-up. The capsule then closed on me with a loud thud and Dr. Walker did an audio test, to which I nodded in confirmation. The top of the capsule, just like the one Yvette was in, was made of clear glass, which allowed me to see everything going on outside. From a drawer in a table next to the capsule, Dr. Walker brought out a metallic syringe with a clear chamber in which I saw the thick greenish substance that was about to be injected into my bloodstream.
“Administration of serum RC-1000 through IV line to Subject 1105, Bellator, Victor, commencing at 0900 hours,” Dr. Walker said aloud as he administered the serum through the injection port of my IV line. I understood then that the entire procedure was being recorded. The green fluid travelled through the clear tube faster than my eyes could follow, and in a matter of seconds it was done. “Serum administration completed.”
A warm, tingling sensation began to stream through the arm connected to the IV line. The sensation got warmer and warmer as it spread through every muscle, bone, and artery in my body. I tried to remain calm, remembering what Dr. Walker had said about this part being a strange experience. But strange was the understatement of the century. I truthfully believed something had gone wrong. Something other than my angst had increased my heartbeat, making my breathing more labored by the minute. Soon, the warm sensation turned into an unbearable burning pain that took root in my spine, reaching higher and higher toward my head. All my efforts to stay calm were defeated the moment I tried to move; my limbs didn't respond. I realized then I'd been completely paralyzed by this so-called serum.
“Dr. Walker...” I tried to scream, but a feeble whisper was all that came out of my mouth. “...something… something… is wrong.”
“Relax, Victor.” I could hear Dr. Walker's voice reverberating inside the capsule like the voice of God. “This is normal. Just breathe, hear me? Breathe!”
I tried, but my attempts to breathe soon became nothing but a desperate gasp for air. When the burning stream in my spine finally reached the nape of my neck, I felt as if a myriad of tiny insects had been suddenly released in my head and were now creeping and crawling their way in, burrowing deeper into my brain. The feeling was maddening.
I tried desperately to scream, but at that point I was no longer able to vocalize. Everything else had been incapacitated. I lay there, mute and paralyzed, helpless, my eyes wide open, screaming for help—yet no one would respond. The oxygen mask blasting air on my face made me feel I was underwater. I wanted desperately to run, but was unable to move. I could feel my heart pounding inside my chest, while the feeling of crawling monsters inside my brain were driving me mad; yet my reflection on the glass showed a peaceful image of me, as if I were simply falling asleep.
Then, as if in a final cry for help, my body began to shake uncontrollably and dozens of silver spots flashed across my vision, as if my brain were ready to shut down. The spots became bigger and more intense; they almost matched the irregular rhythm of my exhausted heart. “Doctor!” I heard someone shout. “He's going into cardiac arrest!”
“Stand by for defibrillation!”
“NO!” Dr. Walker's voice echoed in my head, followed by a dreadful yet familiar phrase—something I'd heard a few years before under similar circumstances.
“We're losing him!”
Then, like an old TV abruptly unplugged, a big flash of light sent me right into darkness…
What are dreams, if not the manipulation of our own knowledge and feelings by an unconscious mind? If that's true, then where do we draw the line? How do you use your logic, when such logic dwells in the ambivalent mind of oneself? These questions rambled in my mind as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. How can I believe what's happening? I thought. It must be a dream or something. And perhaps it was, but I swear, nothing ever felt more real...
I was hovering in the darkness of an unfamiliar place, where the emptiness of space was ubiquitous, and time seemed irrelevant. I was confused—and yet, I'd never been so content. A far, gleaming horizon appeared against the darkness, a sight that I could only compare to diamonds and rubies sparkling on water. I was compelled to reach that distant frontier without reason or understanding. The course was set as soon as I put my mind to it.
Mind... I often wonder if the word had the same meaning as the one I knew in this seemingly foreign world—
The horizon seemed closer every time I looked, though there was no indication that I was the one approaching it, rather than the other way around. I felt neither movement nor wind resistance that would prove that I was on my way to the boundaries of this chimera. For all I knew, the horizon might have been approaching me. But something changed along the strange journey toward the horizon; my will and conviction weakened the closer I got to the glimmering lights. Suddenly, it became difficult to breathe. And my course, once set toward the light, began to veer downward into a dark abyss. I felt myself sinking, all my energy slipping away, as if I were drifting off into a deep sleep; one so soothing that it promised to end all my pain and suffering.
That's when I realized that I wasn't falling asleep—I was dying.
“Victor!” A faint voice wouldn't let me doze off. “Victor!”
I opened my eyes as soon as I recognized the distant voice. “Dad?”
“You have to be strong, son.”
“Dad...? Where are you?”
&n
bsp; “You are a survivor, Victor. You always were.”
“I'm tired, Dad,” I said, my voice breaking. “I'm so tired.”
“Don't give up, son.”
“Why not?”
“Because you promised.”
The faint voice disappeared.
“Dad? Dad!” My own voice echoed in the darkness.
I realized then, dream or not, that this wasn't the way my father would've wanted me to go. Not without a fight. Not without giving it everything I had. I wasn't going to give up. Not then. Not ever. I let out a resilient growl and, like a bird fighting out of an oil spill, I hauled myself out of the abyss, pushing forward towards the lights.
Soon, I found myself standing in front of a giant wall made of hundreds of rather strange windows...or at least, they looked like windows to me. They weren't made of glass, though, but rather some sort of clear liquid, which was held in abeyance despite the laws of gravity. Behind every pane, there was a pulsating light, its rhythm resembling that of a heartbeat. Yet not all of them were the same. Some were white, with just a hint of blue, which gave them the appearance of diamonds shining through water. Others were red, with the same emphasis of rubies over black silk. There were as many white ones as there were reds ones. The white lights, however, seemed to be free to escape their windows as they pleased, emanating spectacular eruptions of light. The red ones, on the other hand, seemed trapped inside their windows—confined, like lifetime prisoners whose punishment was to see others go free at will.
I felt compelled to smash those windows and free the red lights from their imprisonment. But the white lights grew brighter, stronger, flashing faster with every step I took, as if warning me not to get any closer. I paid no attention. The red light was calling me now. I felt seduced by its magical glow, which led me to the biggest and brightest one of all. I stood right in front of it, close enough to touch it. I ran my fingers though its liquid pane, producing ripples like you would in a puddle of water. The red light glowed brighter as I immersed my hand in the crystal liquid, as if pleased by my admiration.
Once inside, I clenched my hand into a fist, trying to get ahold of the light. My eyes gazed into its ruby heart, while the white lights flashed brighter and faster—as if making a last, desperate attempt to stop me.
Adamant in my decision, I pulled my fist out of the window, breaking the liquid seal that imprisoned the red light, which in a chain reaction began to erupt from every window. Every eruption spewed a sudden and spectacular explosion of ruby light, each of which crashed over me like an ocean wave—over and over again.
The empowered sensation I felt with every pass of the light was intoxicating. “More!” I shouted. “I want more!” The eruptions then began to increase violently, producing a thunder-like sound which resembled the rapid fire of a machine gun. But the feeling didn't last long. Soon I began to feel that, with every passing light, a hole was being ripped right through my chest—as if this red light was now trying to break in, infecting the very essence of me.
Maybe that was why it had been imprisoned in the first place.
I tried to scream, but my voice was drowned in the uproar of light. The intensity of the violent event finally blinded me, sending me back into darkness.
***
I found myself in a state between consciousness and unconsciousness, as if I were trying to wake up from a bad dream. I heard voices; a man and a woman arguing. I was completely confused and disoriented. I felt groggy, and my eyelids were so heavy I felt that I'd never be able to open my eyes. But I tried anyway. The attempt was feeble, but enough to make me realize I was still inside the capsule. I tried again, hoping to catch a glimpse of the people arguing. When I finally wrenched open my eyes, the white lab coat gave away the identity of the man: Dr. Walker. The woman, however, was a stranger.
I tried to regain full consciousness, but all I could capture were bits and pieces of the ongoing argument…
“I won't let you do this! These are people we're talking about here!” the stranger shouted.
“This is my project, my research, and my decision, not yours!” Dr. Walker countered.
“I'm not going to be part of this, Doctor.”
“Well, since I'm still the project leader, and chief of this facility, you can consider yourself dismissed!”
“You unethical bastard! I hope you rot in Hell!”
That was the last thing I heard before losing consciousness again.
I couldn't tell how much time had elapsed between that conversation and the next time I opened my eyes. But I was enormously confused, especially by the way I was being awakened.
I heard the voice of the unknown woman again. “Victor! Come on, wake up!” I opened my eyes as she shook me by the shoulders. She then leaned over me and, with great haste, stripped all the wires and electrodes from my head. “Come on, Victor. We have to get out of here.”
“W-w-who are you?” I asked, feeble and disconcerted.
“My name is Sarah Grey, and you've been scheduled for dissection. I need to get you out of here.”
“I-I-I don't… understand... Dr. Walker…”
“Dr. Walker is insane!” she cried, outraged. “He lures brain injury patients to this awful place to conduct unsanctioned experiments on them!”
“What?” I mumbled, confused, as she helped me up from the capsule.
“Here!” She handed me my bag from underneath it.
“How long… How long have I been under?” I asked clumsily, battling to put my shirt on.
“Almost three days,” she replied, helping me button up.
“I'm not… I'm not feeling well,” I maundered, the whole room spinning around me. My vision became spotty then; and before I knew it, I was on my knees, emptying my stomach onto the floor.
“Come on, Victor,” Sarah whispered, pulling me up from the floor. She helped me back to the edge of the bed next to the capsule as I tried to pull myself together. As soon as my vision cleared from the retching, I jumped inside my pants and I put on my shoes, spurred on by the urgency in her voice—but by then it was too late.
“All right, sweetheart, that's enough.” I immediately recognized the drawl of the obnoxious Head of Security as he entered the room, tapping his baton against the palm of his hand. Five more guards stood behind him.
“Listen,” Sarah said, “I know you think you're doing your job. But you've no idea what's going on in here. You have to let us go.”
“I'm sorry, Ms. Grey. But I've been instructed to take you into custody, and to take this… freak to the surgical unit.” He beckoned to one of the guards to proceed with the orders.
“Please!” Sarah pleaded, “Just let us go.”
“Why the rush, sweetheart?” The security head said suggestively. “I'm sure we're going to have fun together in the detention room.” He rubbed his baton against Sarah's arm in an obscene manner.
“You stupid pig!” Sarah retorted, smacking the guard on the face. A ring on her finger was sharp enough to trace a long cut along his face.
The infuriated guard dabbed at his wound, and without warning slapped Sarah across the face with such force that she spun around and collapsed to the floor.
“You son of a bitch!” I yelled, with an anger I'd never felt before, and a surging energy flushed through me. I knew then that something was wrong.
“Shut the hell up, freak!” The hateful guard shouted, striking me on the ribs with his baton. I doubled over in pain, feeling an inexplicable urge to harm them all.
It was then that something clouded my judgment and began take control of my will.
Sarah trembled on the floor, surrounded by the guards. Her wide eyes flickered in fear as one of them pointed a gun at her head, while the loathsome Head of Security hit me again with his baton. The guards laughed as I writhed on the floor, folded up in pain.
“All right, Dick,” one of the guards said to the HOS. “Let's wrap this up, man.”
“Yeah!” he answered, all jacked up. “You two
take Ms. Grey to my office. I still need to debrief her.” He smiled savagely; and although the eyes of the other guards met in disapproval, they seemed to be compelled to follow his orders.
“Let's go, Ms. Grey. On your feet.” the guard holding the gun to her head commanded.
“No.” I muttered softly, still gasping for air.
“You just don't know when to quit, do you?” The HOS said disgustingly, raising his baton to strike me again.
Suddenly I felt fire rise in my eyes; a shock of electricity ran through my entire body, and my right hand rose as the guard swung his striking blow. Only this time, the baton stopped just before it hit me, inches away from my raised hand. The confused guard fought the unmovable baton as I began to rise. The rest of the guards stood with their mouths open, stunned, as they watch the baton freeze in midair. I stood up in front of the guard, tilting my head side to side and glaring murderously.
It didn't take long for HOS, as well as the rest of the guards, to realize that I was the cause of this unnatural event. One of the guards, standing in the back, shouted in Spanish, “Es el Diablo!” and bolted out of the lab, while the others took frightened steps backward, the one still restraining Sarah.
“Let her go!” a deep raspy growl commanded the guard holding Sarah, and it took a second for me to realize the voice had come from me. The guard's panicking eyes turned to his boss, confused and hesitant, as if asking him what to do. My focus then returned to the HOS, whose eyes seemed to defy my wishes. “Let her go!” I repeated, this time addressing him. But his response was a swift move toward his sidearm.
In a quick, effortless move, I switched hands in perfect synchrony. My right hand dropped to the side, letting go of the baton. Once released from my invisible grip, it dropped abruptly to the ground. My left hand rose to chest level, palm open, in front of the guard. His entire body jolted then as my hand locked into position, leaving his hand just centimeters from his holster. I demanded once again, the raspy growl that had taken over my voice sounding even angrier than before. “Let her go!”