New Sight

by Jo Schneider

The slap of a foot on the floor drew Lys’s attention. She wasn’t alone. Before she could talk herself out of it, Lys sat up and swung her legs off the bed. Her head continued to pound, and her stomach objected, but she didn’t throw up or pass out. So far so good.

  “Hello?” a deep voice asked.

  “Kamau?” Lys said, rising to her feet. Having such a small cell proved to be handy. She had to reach out to steady herself as she walked to the door.

  Outside her cell lay a white hallway. The walls curved, more like a tube than a hall, with a flat spot running down the floor and the ceiling. She could see three other cell doors.

  Kamau stood at the door across from Lys. His polite mask was gone, replaced by a scowl.

  “Where are we?” Lys asked, looking around. It was like they’d been abducted and placed in some alien space ship. Or a bad reality television show.

  “I’m not sure,” Kamau said, a stony look on his face. “But I do not think we are in the hospital.”

  Neither did Lys. Mr. Mason didn’t seem the type to let them wake up wondering. He’d have someone there to tell them what was going on. Wouldn’t he?

  “Is anyone else here?” Lys asked, craning her head to try to look into the other cells.

  “No,” Kamau said. “But someone has been screaming from far away.”

  Brady. He had plenty to scream about: being addicted to a drug, running from ghosts, or suffering from the Need.

  Lys’s mind halted on that subject. The Need. It was gone. She explored it, not wanting to wake the Need, but wanting to see if it was still around. Lys poked at it like she would a canker sore. It stirred, but only a little. Like it had been buried under a mound of heavy blankets. Buried? The tonic sort of repressed the Need; it never felt like this.

  Lys risked meeting Kamau’s eyes and found them glaring at her.

  “What?” she asked. What was his problem?

  “Why were you out of your bed?”

  “Uh.” Seriously? Weren’t there more important things to discuss? Like where they were.

  “What were you doing in the basement?”

  Lys shook her head. “I, uh, the toilet in my room clogged, so I buzzed the counselor. No one answered, and the door was open, so I went looking for someone to help.” She didn’t think he’d believe the truth! Visions and dreams? Now that she really thought about it, the whole fiasco was probably a hallucination brought on by Pop. Or the tonic.

  “How did you get into the basement?”

  “I took the elevator down, trying to find someone, and it took me to the basement. The elevator wouldn’t go back up, so I stepped out. Then it closed and wouldn’t open again.”

  “Why were you wandering the halls?” His eyes bore in to hers.

  “Why were you wandering the halls?” she asked, returning the glare. “Down there in the dark? And why did you have a flashlight with you? You just usually carry one around in your pocket?”

  She hadn’t meant it to come out so forcefully. Too late now.

  “I told you, I was searching for Brady,” Kamau said.

  “Why didn’t you just tell the counselor that he was missing?”

  Kamau rubbed the bridge of his nose with a hand. “There was no counselor when I called.”

  Lys opened her mouth to reply, then stopped.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “There was no counselor when I called either,” she said.

  Kamau’s scowl turned into a thoughtful frown. “Are you sure?”

  Hadn’t she just gone over this? “I went to the desk and didn’t find anyone. Why do you think I got on the elevator?”

  The two of them regarded one another. Lys broke the silence. “Why was Brady out of his room?” Finally the most important question hit her, floating up from the dredges of her mind. “What happened with him, anyway?”

  “I do not know,” Kamau said. It looked like he wanted to say more.

  “What was with the door? How did he do that?” Lys asked, leaning forward and pressing her face between the bars.

  “The door?” Kamau asked, shifting his eyes to a spot above her head.

  “You saw it,” she said. “He hit it and the whole thing crumpled like a piece of paper. How did he do that?”

  “It was an old door.”

  That was his explanation? “Oh, come on,” Lys said, “You saw it, too.”

  “I only saw him open the door.”

  “You’re totally lying.” Again, not what she meant to say out loud.

  His scowl deepened. “I do not know what you saw, but I saw Brady push the door.”

  Lys opened her mouth to rebuttal, but stopped. Her mind jumped again. Maybe she could get him with this one. “What did you see coming down the hall after us?”

  “I do not know what you mean.” Kamau looked away.

  “The glowing ball of, whatever? What did it look like to you?” He didn’t answer. Lys went on. “I know you saw it.”

  Kamau hesitated before answering. “The figure of my grandfather in his ceremonial robes.”

  So they all saw different things. Lys saw a wolf head, Kamau saw his grandfather and Brady saw a woman in a flowing dress. Or at least she thought that’s what he saw. “Maybe it was all a hallucination,” she said aloud. Only she hadn’t seen anything when Kenny freaked out and the others had.

  “Perhaps.” He frowned.

  “Do you think Brady is okay?” Lys asked. “He seemed pretty messed up.”

  “You should have listened to me and stayed away from him.” The words sounded more like advice than a censure.

  “But he was in trouble!” Lys said, waving a hand through the bars. “We couldn’t leave him there.”

  “Why are you so concerned about him?” Kamau asked, his voice finally breaking back into the realm of friendly.

  “I dunno.” She shrugged, looking down. “I just felt like he needed our help. Well, my help. I couldn’t leave him there, not when he looked so scared.” She risked a glance back up. “Thanks for coming with me.”

  “You did not give me much of a choice.” His lips tugged into a tiny grin.

  She had been a bit forceful. “Yeah, sorry about that. I hope I don’t get you in trouble.”

  Kamau looked around. “I think we might be in more trouble than we know about.”

  “Why do you say—“

  A squeak followed by a slam interrupted them. Two men in black suits came from the end of the hall. Both men stood taller than Kamau and filled out their suits like body builders. One of them had brown hair and the other had blond. The blond-haired man spoke first.

  “Oh, good. I see you’re finally awake.” The heavy tone belayed the light-hearted words. “It’s about time.” His eyes, which Lys quickly berated herself for looking at, even if the Need was buried right now, held nothing but contempt for her. And when he turned to Kamau, a deep scowl surfaced.

  “Mr. Doyle will be happy to see that you’re both okay,” the man with the brown hair said.

  The man with blond hair stepped forward, stopping in front of Lys. “Time for you to see the boss.”

  The man was huge. He towered over Lys, gazing down at her with both curiosity and repulsion. Mostly repulsion. Lys didn’t understand.

  “Who are you?” she asked. “Where is Mr. Mason?”

  The two men exchanged a knowing glance before the dark-haired one spoke. “We’ll let Mr. Doyle explain that to you.”

  Blondie placed a hand on the bars in front of her. There was no lock, but when the man touched the bars, she heard a click and the door swung open.

  She didn’t move. She didn’t like the vibe blondie gave her. In fact, it took everything she had not to take a step back. The guy oozed disdain from his haughty look down to his immaculate suit. Lys didn’t know who he was, why she was sitting in a jail cell, or what they were going to do with her. She changed her mind and took the step back.

  “Come on,” the other man said, gesturing for Kamau to come out into the hall. “You, too,”
he said when he saw Lys backing away.

  Kamau followed the instructions. Lys hesitated. Really? Who were these guys? She caught Kamau’s eye, and he jerked his head back, signaling for her to join him.

  Being with Kamau would be better than ending up alone with the man standing outside her cell. Mustering her courage, Lys squeezed past the man, who didn’t even bother to try to get out of her way, and went to stand next to Kamau. Lys didn’t notice how bad she was trembling until she bumped up against Kamau’s steady arm.

  “Let’s go,” the man with the dark hair said, leading the way back toward the door at the end of the hallway.

  Lys didn’t want to move. Her heart pounded in her chest, and something inside of her told her that these guys were more likely to hurt her than help her. She didn’t know why she felt that way, and that scared her more than anything.

  She almost jumped off the floor when Kamau’s fingers brushed her wrist. He gently wrapped his hand around hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  “We should stay together,” Kamau said in a whisper.

  Lys nodded and allowed him to tug her forward. They followed the dark-haired man down the hall with blondie bringing up the rear.

  “May I ask where we are?” Kamau asked as they went through the door.

  “Mr. Doyle will explain,” the man in front said, biting off the last word. Silence descended and Lys glanced around the hallway.

  This part of the building, or whatever they were in, looked more normal than the rooms they had just come from. The walls were still white, but they made a square instead of a tube. Framed paintings hung at regular intervals. Brass sconces threw patches of light onto the plain, white ceiling.

  They went down the hall and turned left at a “T” intersection, past a few closed, wooden doors. At the second one on the right, the man stopped and knocked.

  Lys couldn’t help her trembling. It felt like she might shake apart from the inside. Who or what was behind the door? Not Mr. Mason. Or aliens—she hoped. The police? Some government official? But why?

  She didn’t have to wait long to find out. The door swung inward, and when the man with the dark hair moved out of the way, Lys saw a large, wooden desk with a man sitting behind it.

  “Please, come in,” the man said in an Irish accent. He gestured for them to enter as the dark-haired man stepped aside. Kamau led Lys inside, still holding onto her hand.

  The man stood, spreading his arms out. Two chairs stood before them. “Sit down.”

  Lys didn’t move. As a physical specimen he didn’t compare to the other two, but he had a hard look around his eyes that told Lys that he shouldn’t be trifled with. His clear, blue eyes studied her for a moment. Lys held his gaze, and got the sudden urge to comb his curly, red hair.

  “You can stand if you like, but with what you’ve been through, you should probably sit.” He smiled, still looking at Lys.

  Lys glanced at Kamau out of the side of her eye. He shrugged and they both moved to sit down. When he let go of her hand, Lys felt as if she’d just lost her lifeline. However, she rallied, and sat smoothly onto the chair, keeping her eye on the man across from her.

  He nodded and sat. “My name is Rolan Doyle. You’ve met my associates, Erik and Jed.” He waved the other two men out.

  Kamau spoke. “My name is Kamau Matola. May I ask why we have been brought here?”

  Mr. Doyle leaned forward, placing his arms on the desk. “I will tell you after your friend introduces herself.”

  Lys swallowed. “My name is Lysandra Blake.” She continued to look into his eyes. “Who are you?”

  “I am here to help you.”

  Those were almost the same words Mr. Mason had said to her in the psych ward.

  “Help us with what?” Kamau asked.

  Mr. Doyle hesitated before he spoke, but he didn’t answer Kamau’s question. “What did Mr. Mason tell you?”

  “How do you know Mr. Mason?” Lys asked.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Jeremiah Mason and I have known one another for a long time.”

  “What is your association with Mr. Mason?” Kamau asked, pressing the matter.

  “I clean up Mr. Mason’s messes. Try to salvage the lives he destroys.”

  For a moment Lys wondered if Mr. Doyle and Mr. Mason were rivals. Both trying to run treatment facilities?

  “Messes?” Lys asked, the words slipping out. “What are you talking about?”

  “Well,” Mr. Doyle sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Which story did he feed you?” He looked at Kamau. “That you were suffering from a rare condition brought on by radiation from electronics use?” His attention turned toward Lys. “Or did he tell you that you were addicted to a drug that you’ve never heard of? Both are fatal, according to Mr. Mason.”

  “What do you mean?” Kamau asked.

  “Which story did he give you?” Mr. Doyle asked again.

  Kamau stared hard at the man across the desk. “Drugs.”

  Mr. Doyle nodded and looked at Lys. “And you?”

  Her heart dropped into her stomach. “Drugs.”

  “I thought so.”

  Silence descended. Lys spoke. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”

  “Our good friend, Mr. Mason as you call him, is a sham.” Mr. Doyle sat forward again. “He poisons people, and then swoops in to save them before their mysterious condition can turn fatal.”

  Poison? What in the world—Lys didn’t know what to think. She didn’t even know what to ask.

  “It’s ingenious, really,” Mr. Doyle said. “He causes the symptoms, waits until he sees you are in the advance stages of the poison, and then comes to the rescue.” He turned his attention. “Where are you from, Kamau?”

  “I am from Mozambique.”

  “Interesting.” Mr. Doyle nodded. “It’s rare that Mason goes so far for people. He must have seen something special in you.” He turned to Lys again. “What did he see in you?”

  Lys didn’t feel like this conversation was going anywhere constructive. “I’m sorry,” she said again, “but who are you and why are we here? So far all you’ve done is sling accusations at someone who isn’t here to defend himself. Accusations, I might add, that we can’t verify because we’re being held prisoner.”

  There went her internal censor again. She’d only meant to spill about half of that.

  “Oh, you’re not prisoners.” Doyle laughed.

  Kamau frowned. “The cells that we just came from suggest differently.”

  “You’re right about the cells; they don’t seem very friendly, do they?” Doyle waggled a finger at Kamau. “But that’s for your own protection. Mr. Mason gave you some tonic, if I’m right, and that stuff can really mess you up for a while. The cells are to keep you safe—a clean room environment that suppresses the effects of Mr. Mason’s poison.”

  Lys was tired of this man telling her things that Mr. Mason supposedly did. “You haven’t answered my question. Who are you? Not your name,” she said quickly, “but what you do and who you work for.” She was now channeling her inner attorney. Her dad would be proud.

  Doyle nodded. “Fair questions. I’ve already told you that my name is Roland Doyle. We work for an independent branch of law enforcement. It is our job to track down people who deal in these . . .” He seemed to choose his next words carefully. “These crimes against youth who don’t have any idea what they’re getting themselves into.”

  Lys took a breath to ask another question, and Mr. Doyle held up a hand. “Mr. Mason is a criminal. As far as we can tell, he searches out teenagers that have a mental or physical ability that he is interested in. He then poisons them, as I told you before, and swoops in at the last minute with the only available cure.”

  Whoever this guy was, he knew Mr. Mason. He’d just told Lys’s story. Minus the poisoning in the first place part.

  “What kind of abilities?” Kamau asked.

  Doyle shrugged. “It depends on what experiment he is working on.”<
br />
  “What sort of experiments?” Lys asked.

  “Well,” Mr. Doyle said, “the ‘hospital’ that you were in had a laboratory in the basement. We think Mason was trying to gather select DNA in order to clone a perfect human being.”

  A perfect human being? Lys repressed an eye roll. Secret experiments? This wasn’t a movie. Besides, she’d been in that basement. Dust practically encased the place; it obviously hadn’t been used in ages.

  “I know it sounds insane,” Mr. Doyle conceded, “but he’s been doing it for a few years. Our team has been on his trail, and yesterday was the first time we’ve ever caught up with him.” A look of regret imposed itself on his face. “Unfortunately it was just an experiment site. We were hoping to find his main facility.” He glanced back and forth between Lys and Kamau. “The two of you don’t happen to know where that is, do you?”

  Lys shook her head. Her thoughts flew in ten different directions, none of them good. She tried to line up Mr. Doyle’s story with what had happened to her, with what Mr. Mason had said to her, and then with what she’d experienced since all of this had started. It just wouldn’t fall into place.

  “Too bad,” he said with a sigh. “I guess we’ll just have to keep looking. It’s lucky for you that we found you in time.”

  “In time for what?” Lys asked, sitting forward. “What did you save us from?”

  Doyle looked into Lys’s eye. He held her gaze for a moment. Lys felt the Need stir, wiggling under the blankets.

  “A fate worse than death,” he said.

  Chapter 8

  “A fate worse than death?” Kamau asked, raising his eyebrows. “Please explain.”

  Mr. Doyle nodded. “Yes, I know it sounds impossible. Mr. Mason has been performing experiments on people for years. Are you familiar with the mass suicides in Vermont about six months ago?”

  Lys nodded. She remembered. Almost fifty teenagers had barricaded themselves into an old mansion for a month. They’d made some demands—Lys didn’t recall exactly what—and had somehow gotten on the wrong side of the law. When the police or FBI or whoever took care of this stuff charged the mansion, all of the people inside had killed themselves.

  “His people initiated that whole affair.” Mr. Doyle pulled open a drawer and retrieved a picture. Lys immediately recognized a younger Mr. Mason. He and five other men stood in front of a wooden sign that said “Mending.” The man on Mr. Mason’s right was the leader of the people in Vermont. Lys had seen his picture a dozen times over the course of the standoff. Her social studies teacher tried very hard to keep her students up to date with the latest news.