by Erin Rickman
I verbally grunted, but realised he couldn’t hear it. ‘Just do it, please.’
Seconds later, Kenji’s head snapped between the two of us as he walked through his puddle of water and placed his hands on the glass. I then pointed to Hector and put a thumbs up, then I motioned to Atlas, Maze and him and put a thumbs down. Kenji’s eyebrows furrowed, getting lost in what exactly I was trying to communicate. I mouthed ‘Telepathy’ and pointed between Hector and myself, to which Kenji’s eyes widened and a small grin formed on his face. At that, he turned around and walked to his bed, not paying any more attention to the situation at hand. I wasn’t sure what his reaction meant, but I was confident he understood what I was saying.
In all of that, I hadn’t realised Atlas was watching us intensely. He stood at the glass, staring in awe and disbelief. I wasn’t convinced he understood what was going on, of course, he didn’t, Atlas had no evidence as he couldn’t see the situation unravelling next to him. He looked at me, a grin cracking on his face before he pointed to me and mouthed the words ‘Crazy.’ I wanted to joke with him, but I couldn’t. I was worried about what was to happen to him, after all, his body still hadn’t accepted the blue liquid.
Chapter Sixteen
October 19th 2024?
I wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed, but I knew I’d had around fifteen toilet breaks and twenty-one meals, if you could even call them that. It was the same food every time—two slices of buttered toast, and a piece of fruit. My clothes were definitely fitting looser now; maybe I would get a figure like Andy’s that I had so desperately desired.
I sat on the floor of my pod, staring at Atlas, who was laying on his bed. He was pointing at the ceiling, appearing to count the tiles. I thought about how we could be so similar, as I had done this multiple times. Atlas had once said how he liked the way I treated my friends, but in hindsight, being locked in the pods, he was no different. Just like myself, his friends were his family. However, Atlas was much more intelligent, accepting and adventurous than I was; for a start, he sent us on the path that got us here and pieced together all the clues on the way.
As I watched him I noticed his veins were now normal, meaning it was a matter of time before whatever ability he held would be triggered. I saw Atlas had fully healed from his previous beating, which considering the extent of the damage, had happened all too quickly. Just yesterday, his face still held yellow bruises and scabs; now, you would have never guessed it had happened. I assumed it had something to do with his body accepting whatever Van Wick had injected us with.
I looked across to Kenji who stood in the centre of his pod. His ability had snowballed, and he was exerting far more control. The fact he was juggling spheres of water, dropping them and pulling the liquid up from the floor to continue his entertainment gave a clear indication of that. All it took was a simple eye movement and a flick of his finger.
I was jealous. Since I had first connected to Hector the signal had been sporadic. I hadn’t figured out how to communicate selectively. The ginger’s thoughts would come at the most inconvenient of times, or inner monologue of my own that were personal had become known to him. Between someone being in my head, and the boys opposite being able to watch my every move, I felt as if I had no privacy. Not to mention, I still hadn’t been able to reach anyone but Hector. It was starting to become frustrating, I enjoyed having the conversations with Hector, but I longed to communicate with Atlas.
I had tried Maze on many occasions, but my attempts would be met with nothing, she was just blank and static. Why I wasn’t sure, but I had my theories. The first being the cuffs she had—if this left her in a zombie-like state, then her emotional walls would be up; walls that I was not yet able to penetrate. The second was my emotional connection to her, or lack thereof; I knew all about the infamous Maze, but she would have known nothing of me. Either way, my trials all ended in failure.
On the bright side, it seemed Hector’s condition was stabilising. He hadn’t improved, but equally, he hadn’t deteriorated further, something I could feel when we spoke. I was glad as this bought us more time, it gave me a more definite glimmer of hope. We all might still be able to escape.
Van Wick had regularly taken Kenji and me to the lab (separately, of course) to put us through trials. I was never sure how Kenji’s were going, but if his pod progress said anything, I would think he was Van Wick’s star pupil. Mine were hopeless—no matter what emotional extent Van Wick pushed me to, I was never able to communicate on command and reach him, which made me fear the loss of another close person. I was desperate to master my new ability; it would bring a wealth of happiness and a means of communication which would enable us to form an escape plan.
I had to see how my father was coping; I couldn’t imagine it was well. I refused to acknowledge the death of my mother to avoid a downwards spiral. It may seem unhealthy, but the grief I felt from thinking about the situation was not going to help me reach out to Atlas or escape, the mourning for my mother can occur when I am out of here. If we ever got out of here. I scolded myself, I had to be hopeful.
The door to the pod room swinging open broke my train of thoughts, and in walked Lawrence, but he wasn’t alone. He had his hands on the shoulders of another person. This person was tall, fair-skinned, blond and a male. His eyes were the brightest of blue, his lips plump. The man was dressed in the same white clothing as us which stuck to his muscular body. His hair required a serious cut as it was sticking up in many different directions—it was clear he had seen better days. What drew my attention to him the most was the electric blue cuffs around his wrists; they were identical to Maze’s. As Lawrence walked him through the middle of our pods, his eyes glanced over each one of us. The man did not seem zombified in the cuffs, unlike Maze. He was very aware of his surroundings and frankly looked sick of them.
I watched the empty pod opposite me on the left; this was the pod the man was thrown into and the only spare one. He sat on his bed, not a care in the world and waved. I pointed to myself.
‘Yes, you. A-jax is my name, nice to meet you.’
My eyes widened, I could hear him. The telepathy took me by complete and utter surprise. Not to mention it debunked every theory I had gathered around my telepathic ability. I didn’t know him, which meant that maybe I didn’t need an emotional connection to communicate. Additionally, he was a ridiculous distance away, indicating that the span between the person I wanted to connect with and me was not the issue. Finally, he also wore cuffs identical to Maze’s, showing that they were not blocking the communication between us.
‘There is much you do not understand, but that does not indicate that it is neither any less true nor real,’ He stated. ‘You are telepathic, are you not? I could tell this upon my entrance to the room; you are ridiculously easy to penetrate.’
‘How am I in your head? I don’t know you—I’m not even trying—’
‘I am in yours,’ he interrupted. ‘Where do you presume you got your ability from? Much like you, I am here against my will but the gifts you have, they are my doing.’
‘How did you do this to me? I’ve never seen you before.’ I was confused, how did a person I had never met before have the ability to give me telepathy?
I felt him sigh, but there was a neutral look across his face. ‘It is my understanding that whatever the man in the white coat did to you may have originated from my DNA.’
‘Your DNA? What’s so special about it?’
‘Typixs,’ he grunted, looking faintly annoyed. ‘Well, I am not sure that terminology applies to you any longer. Not that it is any great tragedy—most would seize the chance to be something other than human.’
‘What do you mean something ‘other’ than human? What is a ‘typix’? Of course, we’re human, do I look like a dog to you? Has Van Wick experimented with your brain?’ My temper was growing short with his round-about manner.
‘The knowledge I hold on your realm and all others around it by far exceeds anything y
ou think you know about your world. Humans have this inane habit of seeing themselves as the ‘superior’ being, but this is not so. To anyone outside of this world, your race is like an annoying child: you fill us with utter dread when we have to babysit you; however, we cannot help but attempt to protect you from your own stupidity. This is how the name typix occurs, in my realm this is what your kind is called, you are simply typical.’
“Outside of this world’—what are you talking about? Are you an alien?’ I didn’t feel my question was out of turn, considering all that had happened and the information he was pouring out.
I felt him snort, but there was no amusement in his reply. ‘Do not be ridiculous, aliens are a thoroughly human concept. I come from a line of exohumans. We are nothing like your ‘aliens’; we are more closely related to warlocks and wizards, if you will.’
Atlas’ conspiracy was seeming much more real now. Though, a part of me wasn’t shocked, he had been right about our friends and the company.
‘Hold on, what is an exohuman?’
‘Your incertitude is exhausting me,’ he announced. ‘I can understand your interest but now is not the time for an inquisition. All you need to comprehend is everything you are experiencing is most seemingly because of my DNA.’
At that, I lost his connection. I banged on the glass, yelling. I had so many questions, and he was annoyingly unhelpful. What is the point in providing information to not fully explain it? He laid back on his bed, crossing his legs, whistling to himself.
He couldn’t seriously be telling me that wizards and warlocks were real? How did I even know he’s telling the truth? In short, I didn’t. Though, what even was the truth anymore? I tried to make sense of the wealth of information thrown onto me, and it proved to be complicated. It wasn’t possible; I needed more evidence and further clarification of the information he was spurting. I turned, walking back to my bed before my eyes continued to study him in the pod. He looked no different from any of us in here, not in the slightest. No actions he completed led me to think he was anything other than human and that he was making up this fantasy world to deal with the trauma of the situation.
✽✽✽
‘What if he’s telling the truth, Blaire?’ Hector was weak, and I was worried. Regardless, I had to talk to someone and he was all I had. So, he had just sat and listened to me explain the earlier encounter with A-jax. ‘It’s not like it’s a huge surprise. You’re telepathic, Kenji is a water whisperer. If he communicated with you, is it that hard to believe? Your abilities had to have come from somewhere.’ I couldn't believe that someone in Hectors state could string together thoughts that made sense, or maybe they didn't. Truth be told, nothing about this situation made any sense.
‘Yes Hector, it is challenging to believe the idea of different realms, wizards and warlocks. C’mon on, who knows how long he’s been here and how crazy he’s gone.’
Creating an alternative universe was normal for people who had experienced a large amount of trauma, and was a common sign of mental health issues like schizophrenia. If Maze was a zombie (which was now most likely not due to her cuffs) after countless months in here, then there was no doubt someone might be pushed over the edge after longer. But on the other hand, Hector was right, our abilities had to have come from somewhere, and this was not something that a lab experiment could cook up on its own. Labs only cook up these experiments in comic books; although I may argue I was going crazy, I was not going crazy enough to actually believe I was in a comic. Therefore, if I had been wrong about one limit of possibility and my telepathy had proved this, maybe I was wrong about this too.
One thing I couldn’t wrap my head around was how could I reach A-jax, but not Atlas? I assumed it was the distance, or maybe it was because A-jax was also telepathic. However, if it was the distance, how could I reach Hector, but not Maze? Was Hector telepathic? I was sure he wasn’t, he would have told me. Plus, Hector’s veins were spreading, not disappearing, so I guessed this meant he couldn’t have had a power.
‘Well, I, for one, would take this as a win. He’ll probably have a great idea of what the hell is going on with us. Do you think the breakthrough Atlas had was with his DNA? You know, the new bases?’
I could feel how exhausting this thinking was for him, I could also sense how much pain he was in, Hector never ceases to amaze me; he was strong. I thought it wasn’t impossible. I’m not denying the virus exists, that would be utterly preposterous, but if Van Wick needed monkeys to advance his study, then he certainly had them. It wouldn’t have shocked me if this entire time we were working on the identification and the possibilities of A-jax’s DNA. It would explain why Kenji could never find a vaccine to counteract the virus because it didn’t exist in our ‘realm’ and why Atlas discovered extra bases. We were interacting with an entity we didn’t know existed, and in fact, i’m still not sure even does. After all, lying to us about the nature of our research was not the worst thing Van Wick had done. So, given his recent actions, it was utterly believable that we may have been studying A-jax’s DNA and not a virus’.
‘It would make sense,’ I agreed, ‘But wizards and warlocks, really, Hector?’
‘Oh c’mon Blaire, if he exists, who knows what else does?’
‘Not aliens apparently.’
Mine and Hector’s conversation was interrupted with a knock on my glass. Lawrence stood there, a newspaper from a few days ago in his hand, so I shuffled closer towards the front of the pod. I wasn’t prepared for what I read next. The title clearly stated:
‘Four Young Scientists Tragically Killed in a Car Accident.’
Below this headline was a photograph of my beloved car getting pulled from a lake.
My eyes were wide; we were announced dead? I was taken aback. That must have been why my mother was so shocked to see me, she thought I was dead. The first bolded paragraph read:
‘Blaire Mayres, Atlas Bracksworth and Kenji Yukosami were returning from the airport with Hector Rowlands. Mr Rowlands was recently reported missing, but his friends had finally made contact and hastened to meet him. During the drive, the car was tragically struck off the bridge and into the river by an oncoming lorry. The vehicle is believed to have suffered brake failure, causing it to swerved into the young scientist’s car.’
I knew our disappearance would have been covered up by Van Wick but going as far as to stage a car crash was somewhat extreme. My heart sunk in my chest, much like my Fiesta in the river. The anger I felt was not unjust; I had the car for four years. Although it was an inanimate object I was rather attached to it, there were many happy memories which were now washed away down the river, like the right-wing mirror.
Lawrence pulled the paper away from my glass and walked over to the pod next to me. He was doing the rounds and informing us all that we were ‘dead’. It was like Lawrence was gloating, taking great joy in the fact no one would come looking for us. Although Van Wick instructed many of his actions, he took great sadistic pleasure in completing his orders. I turned and faced the wall, the sense of loss being overwhelming.
‘What are you doing?’ A-jax questioned.
‘I am mourning the loss of my hopes, dreams and Ford Fiesta,’ I explained.
I glanced across the pods opposite. Atlas was now reading the paper, anger across his expression. Of course, anger was a reasonable action to Lawrence’s antagonism. I knew Atlas he had held onto the hope that someone, somewhere would be looking for us.
I looked over to A-jax, his head cocked, ‘I am sorry for your loss, was the late Mr Fiesta a dear friend?’
I wasn’t sure if he was joking, slow processing or—god forbid—an ‘exohuman’ as he claims. I was about to clarify what a car was when Atlas’ sudden movement triggered my attention. I spun around on my behind to face the glass instead of the wall; this happened just in time for me to see him fall to his knees. Lawrence turned and walked away from the pods, newspaper in hand. Atlas’ head snapped up, his eyes glowing a deep purple. The change in eye
colour was the indicating factor that Lawrence had triggered Atlas’ ability; no doubt spurred on by the emotions he felt from reading the newspaper. If A-jax was telling the truth, what was about to happen was a result of his DNA.
I watched as Atlas fell onto all fours, his back arching. His body was shaking; his head flew back as he let out a scream of pain. Suddenly his forearms bent in an unholy way. I rushed to my feet without taking my eyes off of him, worry coursing through my entire being.
“Atlas!” I screamed.
He collapsed to the ground, and a sudden burst of light came from his body. It was so bright it burnt my eyes, and I had to turn away, using my forearm as an additional shield to block the rays. When the light had subsided, I turned back. Atlas was no longer a human but a large, black, green-eyed wolf.
Chapter Seventeen
Continued
‘A-jax, what the hell just happened?’ I asked, freaked out at the large black creature staring at me
‘I cannot see, would you care to explain the situation?’
I filled him in on what I had just visualised: the pain on Atlas’ features, the glowing purple eyes, the flash of light and, most importantly, the wolf that took over his figure.
‘Ah,’ he drew out. ‘He sounds like a young shapeshifter. Light is often a form of energy exerted when they first comprehend their ability. He will endeavour to master a controlled shift, and such an element will cease to exist. Eventually, he will be capable of transforming from one creature to another in the blink of an eye. Not an ability I possess, might I add.’