Pulse

by Danielle Koste

  “This testing won’t start for a while. We’ll have the proper facilities for it, and an antiviral for anyone that becomes too much of a problem. And from now on, don’t use a word like monster. It’s so negative. We’re talking about turning people into superhumans. This could be groundbreaking. You should be happy you get to be involved, Miss Platts. Not many women like us get to have something like this on their resume.”

  Rowan bit down on her own tongue to try and level the disgust threatening to slip from her lips. She was already walking a delicate line. If Miller wanted, she could send Rowan away, as she expected would have been done with Phelps as well if he hadn’t left on his own accord. She couldn’t give Miller a reason to drop her, because there was still the subject to think about.

  “And what about the subject? Are we just going to let him die in there?”

  Miller sighed and rubbed at her temple, like Rowan was giving her a headache. “Please, be reasonable. It’s not like I’m happy about the situation either, but my hands are tied. There’s nothing we can do for him without putting someone in danger. Why would we waste time and resources rehabilitating a murderer when it’s not even positive it will work? What’s the best we could offer him? Moving him from this containment room to a prison after he’s cured? It’s easier for everyone to just have him expire in a controlled environment.”

  Rowan put her hands in the pockets of her lab coat to hide them, her fists curled with tightly restrained frustration. Miller’s callus conclusion left Rowan feeling rubbed raw.

  She put her trust in this woman because she was driven and successful, and she saw so much more of herself in Miller than she’d ever seen in Phelps. Now though, she was remembering all the gentle warnings Phelps had given her, that Miller could be cold and detached, blinded by her goals, hard-headed. She hadn’t seen anything wrong with those things before, but now Rowan realized where her moral line was, because letting someone “expire” certainly crossed it.

  She reminded herself of how she’d look to Miller if she reacted hysterically: soft and emotional, in no state of making logical, reasonable decisions worth humoring. Misguided and infatuated with a blood hungry monster. So, instead of arguing her morals, that just leaving him was wrong, Rowan forced herself to nod in surrender.

  “You’re right, doctor. I’m being... foolish. Thank you for allowing me to continue to contribute. This is an amazing opportunity.”

  This wasn’t defeat, though. Clearly Miller had no intention of letting Rowan anywhere near the subject again, but arguing until she gave Miller reason to throw her off the project definitely wouldn’t do her any good, either. The only way she’d get back into the observation room was by playing by Miller’s rules.

  While she was watching, at least.

  Rowan dismissed herself with a trained smile, her mind already running wild with disjointed thoughts, trying to piece together an idea as she exited Miller’s office and headed down the hall to the research wing.

  Just a moment was all she needed. To at least tell the subject she hadn’t left. That she was trying to help. Ideally, she’d want to get some blood to him too. It had been a few days, and while she was sure he probably didn’t need to eat as often as regular humans, his type of hunger was particularly unmanageable when left unattended. It was just a matter of waiting for an opportunity to present itself, which didn’t take as long as she expected.

  She’d forgotten that she would pass the observation room on her way to the research lab, only reminded when she turned down the familiar corridor and saw the door ahead of her. Her heart caught an extra rhythm as her thoughts went into overdrive, scrambling for a cohesive plan to execute in the few seconds she had before reaching the door.

  She could slip in while she passed the room and talk to him. All she had to do was pretend she was meant to go there. No one would notice as long as she wasn’t suspicious. But, then what?

  It wasn’t like she’d be able to feed him this moment, unless she wanted to let him take straight from the source, which was out of the question, judging by the chill running up her spine at the idea. All the good it would do going in there would be letting him know she was trying to help. Trying to do something. That she hadn’t forgotten him. It was reason enough for her to feel the pull in her feet, inching closer to the side of the hallway with the observation room door.

  What if someone saw her, though? If the wrong person caught her going in or leaving, she’d be dropped from the project immediately, which was the opposite of what she aimed for. Maybe she would have enough time to release him, before she was removed by Miller’s security…

  And what, get killed along with everyone else? A foolish idea. No, he certainly couldn’t be released before getting treatment. As much as she’d like to help him out of that room as soon as possible, she needed to remember what he was still capable of. What he would certainly do given the opportunity.

  Besides, that was all assuming she’d even get into the observation room. Her card key likely didn’t even work, and if she tried it and the door didn’t open, it would be a guaranteed cover blow. It was why Phelps had given her his. She was meant to make use of it, one way or another. If she used it now though, she likely wouldn’t get another chance.

  The observation room door approached, and then it passed as she continued down the hall. She wanted to stop. Wanted to go inside and grovel against the glass for him to forgive her, make promises to help, but as badly as she wanted to offer some sort of comfort now, it wouldn’t do either of them any good in the long run.

  She had to make a real plan. She had to be smart about it. He would have to wait, and Rowan would just have to pray he’d forgive her.

  Maybe for now he was safer behind glass. Safe from himself, and from the ones on the other side of the glass that intended to use what he had for their own personal gain.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Three weeks. That’s how long it took for Rowan’s last bit of hope to slip away. Three weeks of pleading with no results. Three weeks of ignored objections. Three weeks of everyone acting like the subject had disappeared, never existed, and Rowan was likely to follow him into exile if she wasn’t careful.

  It was difficult, though. She was so distracted, her research and work performance were slipping, putting the project and her position on it at risk. She was constantly in her head, trying to think of a way out, consumed with the regret, worried it would be too late, that she waited too long, that even if it wasn’t, he still wouldn’t forgive her.

  The forgiving part she dwelled on far too much. After all, why should he? It was partly her fault he was in such a situation. She couldn’t even imagine what it was like, to be trapped in a room, scared and alone, starving, and unsure when or if he’d ever get out.

  An almost immortal, never having to worry about dying, facing the idea of death for the first time. Had he lost track of time yet? Was he in pain? If she did get to speak to him again, what state would he be in? Would he even be alive? And if he was, what would a few weeks of hunger do to him? Would he even be himself, or would she be speaking with the monster lingering in the blacks of his eyes?

  Before the electrocution, Rowan wanted to know more about him for her own selfish reasons. She wanted to help him because it would be good for her, for her career, for the project. Now though, she didn’t care at all about the project, about Miller’s plans for the virus. She even would have left with Phelps, pushed all memories of what happened out of her mind and continued her career like nothing changed, if she didn’t know she was the only one that would help him.

  To help she needed a plan, though. And the longer she spent trying to figure out what to do, the longer she waited for an opportunity that never came, the more she realized she would need to do it herself if she was ever going to see the subject again. All the help she was going to get was from a handed-off key card and the one person that was always ready to follow her into a fire.

  So, when Rowan knew she couldn’t wait any longer,
she swallowed her pride and shame from ignoring his calls, and paid Cameron an unannounced visit during his night shift.

  “I brought you a midnight snack.”

  Cameron could never say no to mint chocolate chip ice cream. He could, however, get suspicious of her intentions. His apprehension immediately showed on his face, as well as his mild annoyance.

  “If you think you can bribe your way into my good favor again...” He didn’t finish his sentence because they both knew that it was entirely possible for her to do just that with how weak willed he was.

  “It’s your favorite,” Rowan said, letting her voice take on a sing song tone as she teased him with the carton.

  He rolled his eyes, trying to stay stoney. “What do you want?” He asked, snatching the ice cream and leading her along with him behind the security desk, where he pulled a spoon out of his “lunch” bag.

  Rowan gave a wide, fake grin. “To apologize, of course.” Cameron snorted at her innocent attempt, so she skipped the pretenses and added, “And to ask for your help.”

  “You’ve got some nerve, you know that?” he replied, his frustration still on his voice but his body language caving. He hadn’t said no, so Rowan moved forward, lifting her bag up onto the desk and pulling out it’s contents, all of which she had stolen over the last three weeks from the lower laboratory.

  Cameron stared for a moment as she set out the tourniquet, blood bag, a needle, and gloves, along with various disinfectants. “Um, should I even ask?” he questioned, dumbfounded, but not nearly enough to keep him from shoveling a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

  Rowan offered a forced smile. “It would probably be better for you if you didn’t. Hold this.” She handed off the empty blood bag, then sat in a chair next to him. Rowan was taught a long time ago how to take blood and used to practice on herself. It wasn’t a necessary skill in her particular field, but she was thankful for it now that she needed a peace offering for the blood-hungry boy locked up downstairs.

  She tied her upper arm off and primed the needle before Cameron clued in and turned away. “What the hell, Row!”

  “I didn’t know you were so squeamish,” she teased, hoping to avoid explaining herself.

  He took the bait, giving an offended look as he refused to look back, responding sharply. “It’s not everyday I see my best friend stick herself with a needle, though.” Daring a peek and seeing the worst was over, he twisted around, his expression shifting a fraction away from sour and closer to concern. “You know… You don’t have to draw the blood yourself to donate to the blood bank, right? They do it for you. And you get cookies and juice after and everything.”

  Rowan gave a breathy laugh. “This is… A different type of donation.”

  “Cryptic. Anything to do with the alien?”

  She shouldn’t, but if Cameron was going to help her, he deserved to know something. “Yes,” she said simply, all the answer she could bring herself to give.

  Cameron lit up with curiosity, but he didn’t push for more, knowing she probably already said too much. Instead, they sat in a silence together that was far less awkward than Rowan expected it to be. In fact, she found herself wishing she could stay there all night, finish off the ice cream and laugh until her sides hurt, like they used to before all this.

  Being happy and normal with Cameron would have to wait a little longer, though. Hopefully, he’d still be there when she was finished…

  “Was that it? You just wanted me to hold a bag for you?” Cameron seemed rightfully suspicious.

  Rowan gave a sheepish smile as she removed the needle and released the tourniquet, holding the bend of her arm to stop the blood. “Not exactly. There’s just one more thing.”

  Cameron was trying to act difficult, but it was so clear to Rowan that he’d agree to whatever she asked, it almost made her reconsider. Asking this of him would get him in trouble along with her, and as much as she wanted to help the boy locked up in the basement, it also wasn’t her place to make that decision for Cameron.

  When she waited too long to make her request, he gave her a pointed look, before reaching out to mess his hand in her hair. “You know I’d do anything for you, Row. You’re still my best friend, even if you’re being a terrible one right now.”

  Rowan tried to laugh, but it came out heavy. “Thank you, Cam.” She could tell him how sorry she was, for everything, when time was more on her side. For now, she could at least show her appreciation with another secret. “I need you to turn the elevators on, so I can go downstairs.”

  Cameron froze, his eyes immediately widening. “D-down?” When she nodded, he almost choked. “It— It exists?”

  “It does. It’s amazing, Cam. And one day, I’ll tell you everything.” If she had it her way, she’d sit there and spend the rest of the night telling him each and every detail. In fact, she needed to so badly that the words swelled up in her chest, and it was painful keeping them down. Instead, she replaced them. “But right now, that’s already way more than you should know. Actually, you should probably know, if you do this for me, I can’t guarantee you won’t get in trouble. But… It’s important I get down there. Do you trust me?”

  Cameron watched her as she went somber, his gaze softening with a subtle realization. “This isn’t about your career anymore, is it?”

  She swallowed down the emotion that crawled up her throat at his question, positive it shined across her eyes despite herself, though. “No. It’s so much more than that now.”

  He hummed thoughtfully, taking a moment to leave Rowan hanging, perhaps just to torture her, before nodding. “You know I always got your back, Row. No matter what. Just... Don’t take too long this time, yeah?”

  Rowan arrived at the observation room with her bag of blood tucked in the bend of her arm, standing in front of the door that had remained off limits to her for three weeks now. She pulled Phelps’ key card from its safekeeping spot inside her lab coat, scanning it on the doors reader. It responded with a chime of confirmation, and the glass door slid open.

  She hesitated before entering, as if second guessing her rash decision to come here without permission. It was already far too late for her to back out now, though. She’d already done more than enough to warrant her removal from the project, and the subject definitely would have heard her.

  If he was even still alive.

  Rowan entered slowly, letting her eyes adjust to the low light. Since the room had gone “unused” all these weeks, the computers and fluorescents were powered off, along with the lights within the containment room. The only bit of brightness was the white glow coming in from the hallway behind her, making the observation room and the objects inside it nothing but shadows.

  It wasn’t hard to find the glass wall, though. She had grown to know the space quite well. Avoiding chairs and tables, she headed for the left wall, placing her hand on the cool glass when she found it. She put her bag down on the floor, then let her eyes wander, searching for a shape through the darkness.

  If he was alive, he would already know she’s there, so why hadn’t she heard from him yet? With how she left him before, Rowan had been expecting a less than pleasant reunion. He was nowhere to be found in the lurking shadows of his stark white cell, though.

  Standing there, her hand on the glass and her heart beginning to race, she found herself scared to call for him. What if he really was angry with her? What if he refused to speak? Or worse, what if he didn’t reply at all? What if something terrible happened? She could barely bring herself to consider it, the thought putting pressure on her lungs.

  Despite her nerves, Rowan untangled the knot in her throat and searched with a whisper. “Lyall.”

  It was the first time she used his name, and it felt strange and unfamiliar in her mouth, but at the same time it slipped out so naturally, like it had been right there, on the tip of her tongue all this time. She hoped that maybe using it would garner a reaction, but the stretched silence that followed left her disappointed.<
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  “Please, I just want to know that you’re alright.”

  Again, her pleads were left unanswered, the space engulfed in a deafening quiet. With no sign of life, Rowan pressed her forehead against the glass in defeat, a sigh escaping onto her lips.

  On a breath, she offered one last attempt. “I’m sorry.”

  Something shifted, the sound of a creature unwinding itself, and she opened her eyes to watch the blackness of the containment room once more, hunting for the noise. He slipped out slowly into the low light from the shadowed, far corners of his cell, following the wall with his hand as he moved towards her. Each step brought him further into detail, but he was still mostly just a dark figure.

  She moved to meet him, and as she did, her adjusting eyes found the troubling details of his state. He was malnourished again, evident in his graying skin and the way it stretched across his bones, thin like rice paper. The hand he held against the wall was most likely the only thing keeping him upright, although he did a good job at pretending otherwise. Right next to him now, with nothing but the glass separating them, Rowan could see the dark circles under his eyes, the paling color of his irises, and most troubling, the scratch wounds up and down his forearms.

  “What’s happened to you?”

  He chuckled at her concern, but the laugh came out dry, like his lungs were arid and brittle. “I keep forgetting that when I’m not feeding I don’t heal as fast.” There was something bitter on his tone as he replied.

  She felt her throat swell, seeing the wounds better as he neared. “Have you done this to yourself?”

  “It helps me not think about the hunger. For a while, at least.” He moved to rest his shoulder against the glass. Then, as if his legs could no longer stand the weight, he slid down to sit. The bones of his back seemed to grind against themselves as he settled on the floor, his spine visible ridges down his back.

  Rowan followed, her knees biting the floor. “I’m so sorry, Lyall. They wouldn’t let me near you. No one was feeding you?” He looked so much worse than before. He looked practically dead. “You were right, about us being monsters. It’s like suddenly they all have a second face.”