Pulse

by Danielle Koste

  There was no sign of him in the white line of light, so she pressed her palm flat against the metal and urged it open further, watching cautiously as the containment room came into view. A few careful steps brought her inside, until finally she caught sight of his shape and froze like a scared deer.

  He leaned against the wall opposite of her, allowing much more space between them than required, as if attempting to make her less uncomfortable. Unfortunately, he followed her with a predatory precision, which negated any ease his distance provided.

  Rowan swallow down another large lump in her throat and threw her gaze to the ground, hoping that if she didn’t see him, she could pretend he simply wasn’t there. Bloody footprints littered the tile she stood on; she resisted a yelp as she retreated a step, and her shoulderblades hit the wall beside the entrance.

  Attempting to gain some control, she reached into her white jacket and pulled out the tablet she’d been provided, opening up some notes with shaking fingers. All Rowan had to do was stand there and ask some of the questions listed on the device. It would not be difficult. Just keep her eyes down.

  They betrayed her almost immediately, sensing his burning stare on her skin and looking back up at him in reflex. She felt her heart stop briefly, stabbed by the frigid chill of his unblinking stare. She saw his lip twitch up a fraction, and she inhaled hard and forced her attention back to the tablet.

  “My name is Dr. Rowan Platts, and—”

  “Doctor?” He had been utterly silent so far, almost painfully so, but the moment Rowan began to speak he interrupted. A well-executed disruption tactic forced her bit of bravery to tangle up in her throat. “You seem young to be a doctor, Miss Platts.” His voice wrapped around her name smoothly, like how a lover might say it, making Rowan feel dirty and defiled.

  “I’m finishing my dissertation.” She managed a sharpness back.

  His eyes flashed with a silent laugh. “So you’re not a doctor. Yet.”

  “As far as you’re concerned, I’m a doctor.” Rowan was surprised at the levelness of her words. It seemed offense distracted her from her fear, however briefly.

  His eyebrow raised a fraction, then he lowered his gaze, breaking his stare finally. Surrender? “Very well, doctor.” His sarcasm suggested otherwise.

  “Dr. Miller has already explained the situation, so I think we should just get down to the questi—”

  “You’re not what I expected.” Another interruption. He could tell it was breaking her focus and was definitely doing it for that reason. With her tongue twisted again, he pushed off from the wall to stand, and continued the thought. “I imagined someone older. Dark hair.”

  “Thank you. You’ve just confirmed that you at least don’t have super vision and can’t see through the one-way glass.” Rowan grabbed the tablet pen and marked in the note, pretending not to be painfully aware of the step towards her he had taken. “Have anything else you’d like to tell us?”

  He stretched out the silence, as though he was going to let Rowan get away with that overconfident retort. He was just stewing in the moment, though.

  “I have a preference for A negative.”

  Rowan’s shoulders tensed, but she tried to not let the sick joke jostle her. It was what he wanted. Still, she could see the smug grin on his face from her peripherals, his response kicking her heart into overdrive.

  “We already knew of your heightened sense of smell.” But was it so precise that he could place her blood type, or was that just an extremely lucky shot in the dark? She pretended his comment hadn’t shaken her as badly as it did, even though it seemed frivolous to hide her physical reactions.

  “You’re a doctor, so tell me. What’s the average heartbeats per minute for a young woman like yourself? Seventy? You should consider getting checked out.” He looked like a cat in cream, so pleased with himself that if the fear wasn’t already making Rowan sick to her stomach, his arrogance would. “Yours is going a lot faster than that.”

  “Congratulations. You’ve brought attention to the obvious fact that you’re terrifying. Now, if you’re finished playing games with me, how about you tell us something we don’t already know. Like a name, maybe.”

  The fear and frustration cracked her shell, and she spilled defensive words before she had time to think about the consequences of her tone. She kept her eyes glued to the tablet, because even though she found the stupidity to talk back to him, she had not yet come across the bravery to stand behind those words and look him in the eye.

  Somehow, she got away with this response unscathed. In fact, Rowan thought that perhaps she heard a breathy chuckle from across the room, but she couldn’t be sure. She wasn’t allowed time to confirm the foreign noise.

  “I don’t have a name,” he said, like it was the simplest thing.

  Rowan scoffed. “Everyone has a name.”

  “I’ve been alone for a very long time. I’ve never needed a name.” The joking from before seemed to have disappeared, his tone inching toward boredom instead.

  “But when you were born. You must have been given one.”

  “I’ve long forgotten my family name.” He paused, taking another step away from the wall as he spoke. “My first name, though. Lyall.”

  Rowan wrote it down on the tablet, trying to ignore his movements. The five-yard distance he started with was closer to three now. With every step her pulse raced a beat faster.

  “Do you know what it means?” he asked, continuing when Rowan forced a neutral reaction. “It comes from old norse. Wolf. Fits, don’t you think?” He smiled with the side of his mouth, a toothy grin that resembled the animal he cited.

  Rowan simply glanced back down to the tablet, refusing to acknowledge his feralness. “Your age?”

  “How old do I look?” he fired back the question immediately. His tone was the most innocent so far, like he was honestly curious. It was perhaps even more unsettling than when he was playing mind games.

  Rowan dared a glance up at him, dashing over his unblemished skin and full head of blood-matted, dark brown hair. “No older than twenty.”

  His lip twitched up, but otherwise, he gave no further explanation.

  She recorded the number, if only to distract her from how uncomfortable the silence was. Whenever the conversation lulled, Rowan heard her heart pounding in her ears, like the persistent ticking of a clock, reminding her of the time going by. Every second, a moment longer in that room with him. Every second, another violent slam against her rib cage, her fear trying to force its way out through her chest.

  Was the inside of her head really this loud, or was the silence just playing tricks?

  “Might I make a request?”

  Finally, he broke through the beating drum in her head with his words, although this time there was something off about his tone. The mocking had been laid on thick so far, but this question rang with soft sincerity.

  Rowan lifted her gaze from her tablet, inhaling sharp and pushing herself further back into the wall immediately.

  He was staring again, steady and unblinking, but it was not with the purpose to make her uncomfortable this time. His pupils dilated wide, the black almost completely taking over the blue. He did not look her in the eye, either. Rather, his gaze directed lower, and when Rowan swallowed down her thick fear, she watched his lips part slightly in reaction. The pieces put themselves together, and she threw her hand up around her bare neck.

  He blinked, like coming out of a trance. “Could you perhaps wear your hair down while we speak?” With his focus off her neck now, the black receded slightly.

  Rowan sighed, relieved when he was no longer locked onto her neck. Removing her hand, she pulled the tie out of her hair and adjusted what she could of her thin, blonde strands forward so the skin of her neck and jaw were in shadows.

  “Sorry.” An apology slipped out by reflex before she could stop herself.

  He didn’t seem to hear. Instead, he’d shut his eyes and took in a smooth, calming breath, exhaling
slowly. His shoulder relaxed a fraction. Rowan expected him to open them and see the sarcasm dancing across his expression again, the blood-thirsty animal banished, but she was mistaken. His pupils stayed dilated, black and possessed, as he returned his gaze to her.

  “It would probably be best if we wrapped this up for today, doctor.” His voice was steady, too steady. The kind that suggested tight control.

  She didn’t have to be told twice. Rowan stepped towards the exit, but offered a question while retreating. “Will you speak with me again?”

  Something felt unfinished between them. Even though she wanted nothing but to get out of that room and never come back in, she also felt like there was more here that needed to be said, the curiosity that encouraged her to enter the containment room aching with dissatisfaction.

  He was clearly surprised by the question, his expression flashing interest beyond the haze in his eyes. “Why?”

  “We need samples. Blood, DNA, a biopsy maybe. Would you consent?” She took another backstep to the door, her fingers wrapping the handle.

  “What do I get in return?”

  Rowan gaped, completely at a loss of what to even offer him other than more blood. She managed to stutter out a response. “Whatever you want, within reason.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched up, and she saw his pupils widen further before he forced his gaze to the ground to offer a nod. “Ok.”

  Rowan didn’t wait for anything further. The details could be ironed out when he wasn’t ready to rip out her throat. She knew not to push a cornered animal, and she was beginning to shake so badly now that she worried her legs wouldn’t hold out if she waited any longer.

  Opening the metal door swiftly, she exited the containment room and shut it hard behind her. The automated locks latched themselves, and Rowan released a shuddered sigh, a wave of overwhelming relief engulfing her body. She was still alive.

  With the fear-induced adrenaline now diluting in her veins, Rowan collapsed onto her weak knees. The door into the observation room opened, and Miller immediately crouched beside her, grabbing her elbow and helping her back to her feet. Beyond the sudden lightheadedness, she heard the doctor’s praise in her ear while being led off to the infirmary to recover.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rowan was released from ECBS after recuperating from her journey into the monster’s lair. When Phelps escorted her outside, Cameron was waiting with his old pick-up truck, and Rowan felt both relieved and guilty to see him.

  She’d been ignoring his calls for two days.

  “I contacted him for you, since I thought it was good that you had someone to at least get you home safe,” Phelps explained. “It’s important you take care of yourself. Make sure she does, will you, Cameron?”

  “Will do, boss!” Cameron replied playfully before engulfing Rowan in a smothering hug and muttering under his breath to her ear, “Right after I kill you for not returning my calls.”

  After allowing Rowan her lungs back, she turned to Phelps, letting her eyes go to the ground. “Thank you for calling him. I really appreciate it. I was worried you were upset with me for agreeing with Miller today.”

  Phelps expression became slightly more guarded, but as usual, he couldn’t stay sour.

  “Of course it’s hard to be the odd man out, but I’m not someone to be as petty as getting angry over someone disagreeing with me. Just… Just make sure your decisions are yours, and you’re not letting Miller influence you in any way. Ok, Miss Platts?”

  Rowan smiled and nodded, although it felt forced with her name attached to Miss again instead of doctor.

  Once in the passenger seat of Cameron’s truck, the thoughtful moment between her and Phelps faded off as her guilt settled in. Rowan gave Cameron a sheepish grin when he glared at her.

  “You’ve got some ‘splainin to do.”

  The words were hardly out of his mouth before his bad impression had Rowan snorting as she held down a laugh. Trying her best to stay serious, she pouted and whined through her giggles, “I know. I’m so sorry, Cam. Things just got really crazy really fast.”

  “No kidding. Nearly had a heart attack when I got a call from Phelps.”

  Cameron turned on the vehicle's engine as he responded, offering a smile even though the look was obviously strained.

  Rowan groaned, ashamed that she made him worry. “I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry.”

  “So you’re alright then, at least?”

  “I’m alright. Just a little shaken up. A lot has happened.” It was an understatement.

  Truthfully, Rowan felt completely out of control the last few days and was only now starting to gain some of it back. She didn’t want Cameron to know what had been going on. He worried about her far too much. If he found out about her almost quitting the project the previous day, he wouldn’t shut up for the next month.

  Besides, no matter how much he teasingly pressed for details during the drive into town, it wasn’t like she could reveal any even if she wanted to.

  When Cameron admitted defeat and suggested they grab takeout, she enthusiastically agreed. She was not interested in making dinner that night, and fatty food was great for generating some feel-good vibes, which she desperately needed. They picked up Chinese and drove to her place, where Cameron flipped through the channels while Rowan gathered some cutlery. They settled on a bad horror movie to watch with dinner, but he set the volume on low, suggesting he intended to talk.

  A silence hung between them as they ate, and she could tell that he was trying to figure out the best way to ask what was on his mind.

  “So, you’re sure you’re alright. Like, physically. Right, Row? Because when Phelps called he said something about you being in the infirmary. I didn’t even know we had an infirmary at ECBS.” He shoved a bunch of rice into his mouth with his conclusion.

  Rowan smiled to try and ease his nerves. “I’m fine. Just felt a little tired, lightheaded. They gave me some saline to perk me up.”

  “Miller also said you’ve been through a lot the last few days. Rumors around the halls is that someone got hurt?”

  “For someone who’s not supposed to know anything about what’s going on, you sure seem to know a lot.” Rowan smirked when he shrugged and made a faux innocent face. “Someone got hurt. Yeah. He’s alright, but... It was a close call.”

  “Just an accident?” His question was hopeful.

  Cameron must have been expecting her to confirm that William had perhaps dropped a bottle of nasty chemicals or wasn’t careful around dangerous machinery.

  Rowan lowered her eyes to her food and played with it before answering, “No, it wasn’t really an accident. More like, results of an on-the-job hazard.” She hated being so cryptic with him, but she was already saying too much.

  He frowned, nodding, even though he was likely understanding even less than what Rowan felt she was revealing. He stayed silent again for a moment, but couldn’t help asking more, despite knowing he wasn’t supposed to.

  “So, was it a body?”

  Rowan swallowed a mouthful of noodles before humming to herself, sliding into a teasing tone. “Maybe.” He wasn’t completely wrong, after all. It was a body. Just not a dead one.

  “Someone famous?”

  Rowan rolled her eyes and shook her head.

  “Was it an alien?” His hopefulness was too obvious.

  She gave a sympathetic look for having to let him down. “No. Sorry, Cam.” At least, she didn’t think the boy was an alien. He certainly seemed human enough, even with his superhuman powers.

  “Well, that’s a downer. I’m not nearly as interested anymore.” Cameron gave a cheeky grin when Rowan scoffed. “How about those nicely dressed men that were following you around?”

  Rowan had seen more of the security since that day. A number of people worked to keep what was down in that basement a secret. “Government agents, I think. It would make the most sense.”

  They spent a few more minutes in comfortable silence, finishi
ng up their meals and watching the movie. It was about a demon dog, hunting down the main characters. There wasn’t much more context.

  “You’re taking care of yourself, aren’t you, Row?” Cameron asked, while the black dog on the screen chased a screaming girl down a dark alley.

  Rowan put down the bite she had been moving to her mouth. “Yeah. I’m ok.”

  “I just get a weird vibe.” Cameron tried to laugh off the comment, but it was obvious he was shaken by whatever feeling he had.

  “You have no reason to be worried, Cam.”

  “If you say so.” He saw right through her but was too kind to argue. His disappointment felt like a stab in Rowan’s gut regardless.

  The comfortable silence soured because of her, and they finished their food with awkwardness lingering between them. When Cameron finished, he checked his phone for the time.

  “Getting late. Phelps said you should focus on getting some rest, so maybe I should leave you to go to bed.”

  Panic struck at the idea of his departure, not realizing how unsettled she still felt until he suggested leaving her alone with the memories of everything that happened.

  “I hate to be a bother, but… Do you think you could stay tonight? I’d sleep so much better knowing someone else is in the house.”

  Cameron, who had stood to gather up their leftovers, stopped to consider. “I guess I could do that. I work evening tomorrow though, so try not to wake me when you get up, early bird.”

  “Thanks, Cam.” Rowan rose, moving over to give a thank-you hug.

  “Don’t mention it.” He hooked his elbow around her head, pulling it towards his chest and pressing his lips to her hair.

  She wrapped her arms around his torso tightly, humming at the comfort the gesture provided. Rowan hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed someone to simply hold her, and it led to her lingering in his arms a moment longer than usual. She sighed, some tension loosening from her shoulders, and his hold around her tightened a little more.