Inside the Darkness (The Human-Hybrid Project Book 2)

by Farley Dunn

“Mr. Shayk, let me—”

  “Garik. I told Nurse Leah that. Do you people listen?” Garik trembled inside with frustration. He wanted to yell at the man, Let me out of this place, but the needle, he didn’t want that again.

  “Ah, yes, Garik. I will do well to remember. Let me introduce my associates, well, soon to be your associates, also, as we’re making excellent progress in your case. Mr. Rodheimer is very, very pleased.” Jimenez didn’t seem taken aback by Garik’s outburst, and he slipped an arm loosely over his shoulders and prompted him away from the window. “We can let you dress if that would make you more comfortable, but names, that won’t take but a minute. First, T’Wana. T’Wana will be your physical therapist. T’Wana?”

  “Hello, Garik.” A woman with big features and a pronounced jaw who carried more weight than she seemed comfortable with stepped forward, offering her hand. “T’Wana Dolalas.”

  “Hello.” When Jimenez squeezed his shoulder and nudged him forward, Garik held out his hand. “How are you?”

  “I’m glad to meet you, Garik.” She took his hand and gave it a squeeze, almost as if she were testing his grip, before releasing him.

  “Why do I need a physical therapist? I’m fine.”

  T’Wana smiled, but it was Dr. Jimenez who answered. “Fine, now, my boy,” and his hand squeezed Garik’s shoulder reassuringly, “but the future, well, who knows? We want to keep you fine as you progress in the program. And next we have Van. Van will soon be a regular in your day. Van?”

  The second person stepped forward. He wasn’t old, but older than Garik—a regular adult—with good hair but a rough, pocketed face. His skin was darker than Garik’s. His shirt flexed as he moved, and Garik wondered what he did, martial arts, bodybuilding, or what? He decided not martial arts, because Kevin wasn’t bulky like that.

  Kevin! He had been in the Tower with them when Garik and Marisa disappeared into the basement. It was a needle in his heart. He liked Kevin, felt attracted to someone who had instantly treated him as a friend, like he was important, and even invited him to take lessons at Ai Kee! Now he wished he’d had the chance to take him up on that offer.

  “Garik, are you with us?” The doctor gave his shoulder a gentle reminder, a quick pump of his hand against his arm.

  Garik shook his head, wiping the fog of longing from his thoughts, to see a hand reaching out to him.

  “Van, Van Hermoso. I’m glad to meet you, Garik. I’ll be your occupational therapist.”

  “I don’t have an occupation.” Garik took the man’s hand. “Other than high school, but that’s not really an occupation.”

  Van chuckled. “I’m here to help you develop your occupation, or, rather, the skills you will discover in the coming months. I’ll also help you maintain what you already have. No sense in letting those go to waste.” He released Garik’s hand and stepped back, his movements quick, spare, and assured.

  “Oh.” Garik let that sink in. DNA. Timber wolf. “I didn’t expect to see changes so quickly.” Were they inspecting him as they watched him from across the room, the way he wriggled his nose, maybe an extended jaw, tufts of hair on the tips of his ears?

  Garik shivered in the growing silence.

  Rapping on the door broke the moment, and they turned to see Nurse Leah peering inside.

  “My goodness, girl,” T’Wana let out, her body melting out of its formality for a moment before straightening. “You nearly took my breath away.”

  “My apologies, Tee. Dr. Jamie?” Leah smiled brightly. “You remember Justin. Michelle requests a few moments of your time. It seems Justin has been acting out again, and, um, well, Michelle seems to think this is pretty urgent.”

  “Michelle?” Garik frowned. He didn’t like names being bandied about, like he was an experiment in a high school petri dish, and it didn’t matter what they said around him, because they would throw him out as soon as he failed to produce the desired effect.

  Jimenez groaned. “Leah, has she tried calling Justin by his name? That’s all he wants, for her to remember his name and use it, for goodness’ sake.”

  “I think she will listen to you better than to me.” Leah smiled. “Can I tell her you are coming?”

  “I’ll be right there. Thank you, Leah. Now, Garik,” and he released Garik’s shoulders with a bright sound in his voice, “I’m leaving you with T’Wana and Van. They have some things to discuss with you. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. They know what they can share with you, and anything else, well, organize your questions, and I’ll see you again, perhaps even later today. Okay?”

  Garik shrugged. He was glad the man’s arm was gone, but he also missed the small familiarity, even if he knew it was false. Through the window, if it was even a window, the image of his childhood home had touched a tender spot inside. His mama’s hug, a pat on the head from his papa.

  “Okay, then.” Jimenez shifted his attention, moving on from Garik. “T’Wana, Van, you’ve got this until I can get free, right?”

  “Certainly, Dr. Jamie,” the two stumbled over themselves to say.

  Jimenez disappeared out the door, kicking up the doorstop and letting the door click shut behind him. The sound of the latch clicking was a jailer’s key to Garik’s ears. When Van checked his pocket and pulled out a passkey, smiling and taking a breath of reassurance, it seemed to say that he was glad he wasn’t locked in, and the truth washed over Garik like hot butter over a prepackaged waffle.

  He was lunch. That’s all there was to it, ready to be eaten up, regurgitated if he didn’t go down well, and tossed out with the rubbish.

  And no one would know, because no one knew he was here.

  GARIK PULLED a shirt over his head, a plain gray tee with a flat, woven collar around the neck. T’Wana and Van had allowed him to select an outfit from the closet and dress, for which he was grateful. If he was going to sprout wolf fur from his back, he’d as soon have it covered as out for someone to observe, document, and record in a computer file somewhere that he would never be privy to.

  Wolf boy in human clothing. Watch out, watch out! It might be his canines, next. Open wide. What big teeth you have, Garik, my boy!

  He rolled his pajamas and tucked them under the sink. He didn’t know how often he would receive fresh ones, and none of the doors in his room had revealed any laundry facilities, yet.

  He studied his face in the mirror, wished for a cap, and remembered Marisa tying his hair into a bun for their visit with Ms. Sunchaser to tour Corona Tower. He blinked his eyes to clear them, then pressed the back of one hand to each side of his face, sniffling.

  Marisa. He took a deep breath, lifted his right shoulder to his face and dried that eye, and then his left.

  He shook his head in dismay when he saw two damp crescents on his shoulders. Okay, let them see. They needed to know what this was doing to him. He turned, pulled the door back and turned out the light.

  “First,” he demanded, determined that this time they would listen to him, “I have some questions.”

  T’Wana and Van were seated on the small couch, and they smiled and nodded. Van said, “We expected you would. Shoot, my friend.”

  “That’s not a real window.” Garik pointed to the obvious.

  “Dr. Jamie was surprised you saw through that so quickly.” Van smiled.

  “Nothing to see through. That tree was struck by lightning when I was seven. Half of it was gone. It never grew back.”

  “Oh.” Van and T’Wana glanced at each other with raised eyebrows. “You said questions. Next?”

  “Who is Michelle?”

  “You’ll meet her later—”

  “You’ll tell me now.” Garik crossed his arms. “I’m tired of being treated like I’m an experiment. Who’s Michelle?”

  “Michelle Vasquez.” T’Wana stood, and she glanced from Van to Garik, obviously considering how much to say. “A nurse, like Leah—”

  “Except not like Leah.” That was plain to Garik. “Leah does medical things, like
give me shots when I fight back. She was clear that Michelle wasn’t doing that, so why isn’t Michelle giving Justin a shot? Just knock him out? You people did me more than once, as everyone keeps telling me.” He rubbed the stubble on the top of his head. “I don’t even remember this growing, but I remember when it wasn’t there at all. So, who’s Michelle?”

  Van stood this time, and he touched T’Wana’s arm. “I’ll take the blame for this. Garik, some of our research subjects need help adjusting, and not just with developing their skills. They need more.” He grimaced and touched his temple. “Michelle is our . . .” he hesitated, then blurted out, “psychiatric nurse.”

  T’Wana made a face when Van said the words.

  Crazy people, Garik thought, and dread flooded his brain with an explosive rush. What they do to people here makes them crazy.

  And they’d already done it to him. Sheesh!

  ― 3 ―

  GARIK LOOKED upward, his heart pounding. This? They had a climbing wall?

  He was on his “orientation” with Van and T’Wana, and they had been joined by a short man with Cambodian eyes but an Irish complexion, crisply turned out in a military uniform and excessively polite.

  “Do you like?” Senior Airman Shan Vang smiled at Garik, the perfect blend of manners and consideration for the young man’s exposure to the new world of the Tower’s basement research complex.

  “What’s not to like?” Garik had never used a climbing wall, so he wasn’t entirely sure how they were supposed to be laid out. Arik, his aunt’s boyfriend, liked to watch Wall Warriors, a competition series on television. Their climbing walls were nothing like this.

  This one shot up through the floor above—Basement Level 1, if the sign on Garik’s door meant anything—and the upper portion was filled on three sides with observation windows, where, Garik assumed, people on the upper floor could view the goings on up and down the climbing wall, including goof-ups, like his. He felt the hairs on his arms stand up just thinking about it. Higher were loops, straps, and harnesses hanging from ceiling gantries, several which appeared motorized. Half the wall had grips spaced impractically far apart.

  “There, how could anyone climb that?” Garik nodded his head at the portion of the wall with the crazy distances between the grips.

  “You’ve climbed, then?” Vang glanced at T’Wana and Van, slightly disapproving, without answering Garik’s question. “I wasn’t told.”

  “Are you kidding?” Garik laughed. Him? He was lucky Bay City had built the skate park. If they had built a climbing wall, he was certain he would have been on it—and broken an arm or leg or two. Besides, he didn’t have to climb to see that no one’s arms were that long. Unless someone could fly, well, and that was impossible. “I skate.”

  “Ah. That I knew.” Vang’s forehead smoothed, and Garik’s two overseers began to breathe again. “Would you like to try?” He motioned to the wall.

  “Can I?” Garik looked to Van. Dr. Jamie hadn’t returned, and T’Wana seemed kind but afraid to decide without him. Van had told him about Michelle, and that had created a link, however tenuous, between the two. He didn’t trust the Senior Airman, not that he distrusted him. He didn’t know him.

  “I’m sure Dr. Jamie would appreciate knowing if these are skills you might develop. Climbing, you understand. And I’m sure he will accede to my authority. I am, after all, your occupational therapist. We’ll never know what occupation you can pursue if we never pursue one, will we? Besides, it’s good exercise. Keeps you fit.”

  Van clapped Garik on the shoulder, hard enough to make him stumble. Garik frowned, but Van was smiling, not in an unfriendly way, and T’Wana nodded her agreement.

  Vang gently touched Van’s sleeve and said with an even, polite undertone, “Careful with the subject, Mr. Hermoso. We don’t know his limits, yet.”

  Subject? Garik glanced at the Airman, ready to retort that he had a name. Vang was leaning in close to Van’s ear, and T’Wana wore a pasted-on smile, waiting to see what was next on the “orientation” agenda, patently oblivious to the Airman’s caution. Yet, Garik had heard him fine. Had he intended for him to hear? If so, why would he call him that? Maybe the man wasn’t as kind as he seemed. Garik shivered.

  Then he latched onto the rest of what the man had said. We don’t know his limits, yet.

  That was funny. He was seventeen, only recently a senior at Bay City High, and that was only if they ever let him out of this place. The unexpected reminder of his life outside his new prison—however fancy it might be—made him long for Ibn, Muhammad, even the three shrimps, Winter, Firestarter, and Shrimper. Especially Robbie, who was like a little brother. Garik had stayed over his place like a second home on nights when his aunt worked late before she went on assistance.

  “Can we do this?” Garik drew in a deep breath, hiding his emotions behind a wall of action. He pointed upward. “Do I need one of those?”

  “A harness, yes.” Vang smiled. “Mr. Hermoso, we should give the boy a chance to experience some of what we have to offer. This will be a good test of his progress. Ms. Dolalas? Is our young man ready?”

  “I suppose so, though I haven’t personally evaluated him. Dr. Jamie only introduced us this morning, and then he was called away.”

  “Yes, with Justin. We are all aware. Still, you are unaware of any reason we shouldn’t proceed? He will be in a harness and unlikely to fall.”

  “I don’t fall.” Garik said the words hard, angry bravado overriding his sense of caution. He was deciding he didn’t like this Airman as much as the one he already knew. He would show him.

  “I am pleased to hear that.” Vang tapped his watch, and Garik noticed a flesh-toned earbud in his ears. “I need Maye here. We require the climbing wall.” After a moment, he said, “We’re here now. So, stat.”

  The Airman looked up, pleased. He motioned to Garik, walked with him to the wall and grasped a plastic protrusion bolted to the undulating surface.

  “This is us.” He wrenched the grip in several ways, and it failed to budge. “You are you. We remain the same.” He rapped the grip with his knuckles, a hollow plastic sound, for emphasis. “You must adapt to us. It is easy. We provide the structure; you learn to make your way forward. Do you have questions?”

  Structure? Adapt? Garik wanted to laugh. He also wanted to climb this wall, and that wouldn’t happen if he offended this man.

  “Can we do this now?” That would have to do—for the moment.

  “Certainly. I see Mr. Maye arriving. I will put you in his capable hands. I’m looking forward to this demonstration, and I’m sure you will perform admirably.”

  Vang stepped back, and Garik turned to see a tall, fit, blond man striding his direction with a broad smile. Nordic in skin tone and facial structure, he carried a climbing harness with a waist belt, two leg loops, and several metal eyes to attach gear and the safety lines hanging from the ceiling.

  “Garik!” The man raised one hand is an open-palm wave, his five digits like a gleaming star, as if they were old friends. “I hope you like first names. I’m Devon, the recreation coordinator and activities director around here. I’ve been hearing good things about you.”

  “Sure.” Hearing good things about me? Garik had no idea what that meant. “You are going to help me climb this?”

  “Right-o, kiddo.” Devon grinned. “Let’s see how well I chose your harness.”

  Devon knelt, held the harness to Garik’s waist, and checked each of the leg loops. He adjusted the buckle on the waist belt, shortened the leg loops slightly, and stood with a grin.

  “I need to put that on?” Garik glanced to Van for confirmation, to see him nod.

  “Devon knows what he’s doing. I’m here to observe how you perform, but Devon’s in charge of this. Just do what he says.”

  “Okay. Do I keep my shoes on or off?”

  “Ack!” Devon hit his forehead with one hand, causing Garik to notice a pronounced cowlick at his left temple. He laughed, not at a
ll irritated. “Shoes, shoes! No one tells me they need shoes.”

  “I’m sorry,” Garik said, apologizing for something that wasn’t his fault but that he felt was his responsibility, somehow.

  “Here.” Devon grinned expectantly as he unzipped the largest fanny pack in the world. “I might have an extra pair in here.” He pulled out a pair of thin, rubberized shoes, with a wide, Velcro flap to hold them on.

  Garik turned at a hand on his shoulder to see Van at his side. Van said, “See? Devon has you covered.”

  The touch of the hand, the magic pair of shoes, and the climbing wall at his side . . . Garik’s frustration and anger softened a bit, and in that moment, he felt a surge of anticipation.

  I can do this. I know I can.

  He looked up at the wall, excited, and he was certain he would reach the top and be better than anyone ever had before.

  Just watch, Airman Vang. I’ll show you.

  GARIK GASPED as he hit the bottom of the safety line’s arc. He had fallen five times already, and his legs were sure to bleed bruises before morning.

  “I’m all right,” he called to those below him. Devon held the end of the safety line where it looped up through a pulley attached to a ceiling gantry and anchored to Garik’s harness on the other.

  “We’ll move you over and try again,” Devon called. “Hold steady while I shift your position.”

  A machine attached to the pulley began to whine, Garik felt the carabiners at his waist shift and jerk, and the wall moved closer. Vang had abandoned the demonstration, except for cursory attention from time to time. The man normally lifted his head and spoke down his nose, and he wasn’t doing that now, which meant the man wasn’t interacting with or showing interest in Garik’s current progress.

  What was Garik saying? He wasn’t interested in his current progress, because he wasn’t making any.

  Van still called out encouragements.

  “Swell job,” and, “Way to go, Garik.” Garik knew better. Swell meant you didn’t fall six times, and with everyone watching, too.