The Genetic Experiment: Book 2 in The Generation Series

by E S Richards

  The larger table in the room caught her eye next and Zahyra moved quickly over to it and sat in the accompanying chair. Laid out was a bowl of hot soup, steam wafting into the air above it and a roll of crusty bed. She dived into the meal immediately devouring more than half of it before she paused, an unwelcome thought entering her head that there might be something venomous mixed in with the soup. She shook her head at the thought quickly however; if the people here had wanted to do something to her they would likely have done it already, when they had removed Cain and Asher from the scanning room. Reassuring herself slightly she finished the food, welcoming the feeling of satisfaction in her stomach.

  After eating she inspected the locker, finding three sets of pants, canvas shoes and an assortment of tops and underwear. Zahyra was unsurprised they all looked to be her exact size, the abilities of the safe haven already far amassing her expectations.

  Eventually she moved into the bathroom, knowing she’d spent too much time inspecting the room and that Heather would be returning for her shortly. The devices in the bathroom confused her for a moment as she pushed buttons and twisted knobs in an attempt to figure out what worked what. At the reveal of hot, running water Zahyra enthusiastically stripped out of her dirty clothes and stepped under the cascade of water. It had been too long since she had cleaned herself and now she was doing so she realised how much dirt and grime had accumulated on her skin.

  She scrubbed at her knuckles carefully, the water stinging her cracked skin slightly. It took a long time for the water to run clear from her body, a combination of dirt and blood escaping down the drain. Standing there Zahyra began to feel calmer about her situation. The rain always had a way of relaxing her and the shower was having much the same effect. She washed her hair twice until she was happy with how she felt and reluctantly turned the water off, still amazed at how efficiently everything seemed to work.

  Drying herself as quickly as she could Zahyra changed into new clothes from the locker. She avoided the canvas shoes, the fabric feeling flimsy and unsupportive and opted for her combat boots instead. Plus they would be easier to run in if she had to escape, a thought she tried to keep at the back of her mind. She had just finished tying the laces when the door clicked open and Heather reappeared.

  The woman looked Zahyra up and down, assessing her appearance. Her nose wrinkled slightly when she saw Zahyra was still wearing her own shoes but she refrained from commenting on it. Instead she simply raised her eyebrows and turned, indicating it was time for Zahyra to follow her. She waited until the door clicked shut behind them before beginning to speak.

  “This is one of the housing quarters,” she said plainly. “We tend to house people in accordance to their work details. Due to lack of space and certain other factors however you have been placed in one of the more elite housing quarters. My own room for example is on this very same corridor.”

  Zahyra’s curiosity peaked at this statement. She immediately suspected her being placed on this corridor had more to do with the other factors Heather had mentioned rather than the apparent lack of space. Still she said nothing and let Heather lead her towards the end of the corridor. Turning right she continued to speak.

  “To the left is simply more accommodation. This corridor leads us towards the main atrium of the facility.”

  “What were the rooms downstairs?” Zahyra suddenly cut in. “Will I get to see those again?”

  “Please save your questions until the end,” Heather rebuffed, picking up her pace slightly as they continued down the corridor.

  There were several doors dotted along it and Zahyra wondered what was behind each one. She also resented Heather demanding she not ask questions until the end, her mind already overflowing with a thousand things she wanted answers to.

  Her thousand questions quickly doubled as Heather led Zahyra around a corner and they arrived in what had been described as the main atrium. Zahyra stopped in her tracks and gazed around the dome-like room they were standing in. The ceiling had been carved out of the rock and the original inside of the mountain was clearly visible. Until that moment Zahyra had almost forgotten the whole facility was hidden inside the mountains and she gasped at the scale the whole safe haven must be.

  This definitely seemed to be the hub of the facility, with different doors and corridors leading off in every direction. There was very little in the main atrium itself, it just seemed to be the place where everything could be reached from – a fact Zahyra reminded herself could come in very useful in the future.

  The atrium was also alive with activity. While Zahyra stood and admired it for no longer than a moment more than thirty people must have moved between the areas surrounding it. Many of them looked at Zahyra, her outfit making her stand out amongst a sea of grey uniforms. She spotted several people with grey armbands to match, more red armbands and then a small group of people wearing green coloured bands too. This last group of people were all carrying large duffle bags and whispering in hushed tones.

  “What do the–”

  Zahyra started to enquire about what the coloured armbands meant but Heather simply raised a hand in response and shook her head.

  “The mess hall is this way.”

  Before Zahyra could argue her right to ask the question Heather had moved off towards a corridor. Zahyra tried to make a mental note of which one she’d just walked out of, but the downside of the atrium having no discernable features of its own meant that each entrance and exit looked exactly the same.

  Heather led her down a small corridor of no more than a few feet and then they entered into the mess hall. This room was three times the size of the main atrium and filled with round tables, each surrounded by six chairs. A long countertop stretched along one side of the room, ending with a door that was – to Zahyra’s dismay – closed.

  “This is the mess hall,” Heather began, opening her arms slightly to indicate to the room. “This is where meals are served each day at six, one and seven. We eat according to our bands – as you have not been assigned one yet, you will eat with me. Second shift. At those exact times. That will start tomorrow however; as you are still very new to the safe haven food will be brought to your room again tonight. I will collect you in the morning for breakfast. Once you have been assigned a band those times may change, but for the time being I find that,” Heather paused, “unlikely.”

  Zahyra nodded. Wondering whether the bands Heather spoke of referred to their coloured armbands. It seemed like the logical explanation but Zahyra was quickly realising to not take anything as it came in the safe haven.

  Seeming satisfied with her explanation of the mess hall Heather swivelled round and began to walk back out the way they had come. Zahyra quickly followed, not wanting to get lost before she’d discovered where everything was. She followed Heather back into the main atrium and then down another corridor. In this area there was a gym, filled with several men lifting weights or throwing punches at a pair of bags hanging from the ceiling. Zahyra noticed that every man in that room wore a red armband, each of varying shades – like the men who had been in the scanning room earlier that day.

  Had that really only happened earlier that day, Zahyra thought. Her time in the white room had disorientated her, but she did find it unlikely that a very long period of time had passed in there due to no one bringing her food or water. It must have only been a matter of hours since she had last seen her brother, but already the emptiness in her heart was growing vast.

  The next area Heather showed her seemed to be a library of some sort. The walls were lined with more books than Zahyra had ever seen and several people were hunched over tables reading from them. They also appeared to be taking down notes, although from her position in the doorway she couldn’t make out what they were.

  “This is the study area,” Heather cut into Zahyra’s thoughts. “We carry a wealth of knowledge about the past in this facility, so many people come here to learn about it and improve themselves. You can also learn more about t
he safe haven here, although I believe one of our books has already been placed in your room.”

  Zahyra nodded silently again in response to Heather, who took her silence as an indication to move onto the next part of her tour. They continued for another hour or so, although with no sunlight Zahyra struggled to keep track of the time. Her stomach began to rumble, the bowl of soup she’d had earlier having done little to sustain her. She struggled to remember the last time she’d had a full meal.

  She was taken to the medical area next, the whiteness of the rooms making Zahyra’s knuckles sting from the memory of her time in the white room downstairs. Heather told her she would have to report to the medical area tomorrow for a full examination, something she was at least glad of considering her injuries over the past two weeks. As they left the medical area Zahyra noticed everyone there wore white armbands, meaning she could at least confidently assign one colour to a certain role.

  Eventually Heather guided Zahyra back through the atrium and towards her room. She tried to find anything discerning about the archway they walked through that led to her housing quarters but they still all seemed the same to Zahyra and she was certain she would get lost very quickly. As the door to her room clicked shut behind Heather, trapping the two of them inside Zahyra suddenly felt very exposed. She turned slowly to look at the older woman, who raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth.

  “Questions?”

  Zahyra’s mind stumbled to organise what she wanted to ask Heather. She knew she needed to be careful about her questions, but also wanted to try and glean as much as possible from her answers. Although she had a feeling Heather was going to be a bit of a brick wall about the matter.

  “Where did this place come from?” Zahyra started, “Did you build it?”

  Heather began to speak as if she was reciting from a book, her voice monotonic and unyielding.

  “The safe haven was built many hundreds of years ago, in The Before Time. It was designed to be exactly what it functions as today – a safe haven for those in danger from the outside world. The inhabitants now are either descended from the original inhabitants or are refugees, like yourself.”

  “And the armbands,” Zahyra continued, “do they signify what your role is here? Like white for medical people, purple for…”

  “The bands yes, signify each individual’s role within the facility. You will learn what each colour comes to represent in due time. But you are correct: white bands signify the medics.”

  Zahyra grumbled slightly at Heather’s reluctance to tell her what the other colours meant. It surely couldn’t do her much harm when she was trapped in her room and she longed to know what Heather’s colour represented.

  “If you don’t have any further questions I shall go, and see you tomorrow morning for…”

  “Wait!” Zahyra cut in. She didn’t realise how long she’d gone quiet for wondering about what the colours on the armbands meant, but she couldn’t let Heather leave without asking her most important questions.

  “Where is my brother? Where’s Cain? And what is T128?”

  Zahyra burst all three questions out like her life depended on it and Heather pursed her lips in response.

  “Your brother and companion were deemed unsuitable for housing, as you heard earlier. We began the removal procedure with them both immediately after the scanning process.”

  “But Asher–”

  “As for T128, you will be briefed on that in the morning.”

  “Asher can’t be unsuitable!”

  Zahyra cried out in desperation as Heather moved away from her and out of the door.

  “He’s just a kid!”

  The door clicked shut between the two women.

  “He’s just a kid!”

  Chapter 3

  Zahyra sank down against the locked door of her room. Although she had known it was very likely her brother had been removed from the safe haven like Cain, she hadn’t truly let herself believe it without hearing confirmation. Now that Heather had indeed confirmed her worst nightmares she felt trapped in a world worse than anything she could have imagined.

  The residents of the safe haven were treating her like a prisoner. No amount of clean clothes or hot showers could make up for the fact they had stripped her of her family. Of her loved ones. With tears streaming down her face Zahyra dragged herself over to the bed and burrowed underneath the blankets. It was by far the most comfortable place – physically – that she had ever encountered, but with everything going on around her she failed to appreciate it.

  Instead she wrapped her arms tightly around her body and cried herself to sleep. Not even the sound of someone bringing her supper in the evening managed to wake her and it wasn’t until a cold hand grabbed her shoulder the next morning that Zahyra was brought back into consciousness. Heather’s face gazing down at her.

  “You have ten minutes until breakfast. I’ll wait outside.”

  Zahyra fumbled against her sheets. She was still fully clothed from the day before but her boots were strewn on the floor, evidentially she had kicked them off in the night. Dragging herself out of bed she made her way into the bathroom and stared at herself in the reflective glass attached to the wall. Her eyes were swollen and puffy from crying and her bottom lip was swollen from where she’d chewed it.

  Peeling off her clothes she cleaned herself quickly and redressed in a clean outfit from the locker. Then with a deep breath she opened the door, finding it unlocked for the first time since she’d arrived. Heather was leaning against the wall outside but she immediately righted herself when Zahyra appeared. She gave a curt nod and then started off at a brisk walk down the corridor towards the mess hall. Zahyra dragged her feet behind her as she followed, the pain of hearing the truth about her brother still tearing her apart inside.

  When they entered the mess hall Zahyra stopped in her tracks. The room was filled to capacity and she soon recognised that everyone inside wore either red or purple armbands. Heather led her over to the wall lined with counters and Zahyra then saw that the wall behind them all was slid open, and a few men and women were wandering around cooking and preparing food. Instead of red or purple armbands however theirs were grey, almost blending in with their uniforms.

  Heather handed Zahyra a plate as they moved down the line. The vast majority of the people surrounding her carried the red armbands, some darker than the others. She wondered what the variation in the shade of red signified, and what the grey and purple armbands meant too but knew better than to try and ask Heather. Those standing behind the counters with grey bands leant over to serve the people in line and soon enough Zahyra’s plate was piled high with various foods. Most of it she didn’t recognise, but identified at least a few items as some kind of meat.

  Once they reached the end of the line Heather picked up a mug of dark brown liquid and handed it to Zahyra before taking one of her own. She then steered Zahyra over to an almost empty table where they sat. The two other people on the table also wore purple armbands. One was a man similar in age to Heather; the other was a very old woman who was merely picking at her food.

  Zahyra kept her head low as she began to eat, taking small forkfuls of each different thing on her plate until she determined what she liked and did not. The brown liquid in the mug tasted awful but Zahyra forced herself to drink it, knowing she needed as much strength as possible for the day ahead of her – whatever was to come.

  No one spoke to her as she ate so she resigned to quietly listening in to the hushed conversation Heather was having with the man. She picked it up half way through, but it didn’t take long for Zahyra to realise they were talking about her.

  “Do you think we’ll have success this time?”

  “I hope so, it’s been a while since we’ve had such a strong participant.” Heather looked over slightly at Zahyra when she made this statement and Zahyra snapped her head back down to her plate in response.

  “The parties haven’t had a very high success rate lately, I think we’re
letting them slip. So we really need this to work.”

  “Maybe we need to re-think our deal with them Heather, you know I was wary about that to begin with.”

  “It’s our only option Marcus,” Heather snapped back at the man. “You know we can’t send our teams out as often as we’d like to, this one really just fell into our laps. We haven’t had a walker of this calibre in about thirty-five years I don’t think. Definitely not in my time.”

  The two of them stopped conversing for a moment and the table fell silent. Even their brief conversation had created many more questions in Zahyra’s head and she grew worried about the looming appearance of T128, whatever it was. Zahyra was just finishing her plate, scraping what she didn’t like to one side when the old woman slammed her mug down on the table, brown liquid spilling out to one side.

  “We need to get out!” She suddenly cried manically, turning towards Zahyra. “You’ve got to get out girl!”

  The old woman grabbed Zahyra’s arm, making her wince from the strength of her grip.

  “Don’t just sit here! Time to go!”

  Heather suddenly rose to her feet and moved around the table to Zahyra’s side. She prised the woman’s hand from her arm and hauled her out of her seat.

  “Marcus get her out of her,” she hissed at the man who had also risen in the outburst. The mess hall had fallen silent around them and Zahyra sat stunned in her chair. Heather moved awkwardly back around the table and regained her seat.

  “Don’t listen to her,” she said clearing her throat slightly. “She’s way past it in her old age, thinks we’re still trapped in the cave-in from several years back. Three of the walls came down in an old wing and she suffered a head injury. Never been the same since. Shame really, she was one of our greatest leaders.”

  Zahyra said nothing and took a final sip of her drink. Heather’s story about the old woman was believable, but there was something in the way she spoke that told Zahyra it was just that: a story. From what Zahyra had seen so far the old woman was the only person in the safe haven who saw it for the prison it truly was, just like she did. Hopefully she could meet with her again and try to get some answers.