by C. C. Lynch
Replicator
C.C. Lynch
Copyright © 2016 C.C. Lynch
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1517258219
ISBN-13: 978-1517258214
To my readers.
Thank you
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
i
Chapter One
1
Chapter Two
Pg 4
Chapter Three
Pg 14
Chapter Four
Pg 28
Chapter Five
Pg 39
Chapter Six
Pg 56
Chapter Seven
Pg 62
Chapter Eight
Pg 76
Chapter Nine
Pg 87
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
About The Author
Pg 94
Pg 110
Pg 118
Pg 129
Pg 142
Pg 154
Pg 170
Pg 182
Pg 189
Pg 196
Pg 205
Pg 209
Pg 219
Pg 222
Pg 232
Pg 240
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Mom, Dad, Bethany, and Josh.
Thank you for your constant support.
1
My fingers slid delicately over the cold, smooth surface of the concrete wall tracing imaginary pictures. Abstract lines and curves brought me comfort in a cell that offered nothing but despondence. With my forehead pressed against the wall and body lying atop a metal slab acting as a makeshift bed, I fell into a trance that took me away from the reality that I had been captured by Jeremiah. The tingling of my left extremities from a lack of circulation threatened to force me to move my body and acknowledge my surroundings. I refused to give in.
My hand stopped mid-sketch as I sensed the frequency in the room change. I hadn’t heard the door to the room open, but I knew Erik was now inside.
“What now?” My low grumble vibrated off the hard surfaces that my face was cornered into.
“No need to be so off-putting, princess,” Erik spoke casually, “I wanted to see how you were doing.”
A hearty scoff escaped my mouth. “I haven’t eaten in three days and I have been reduced to the rejected child of a jail cell.”
Erik sat by my side and put his arm around my shoulder. I shuddered at his touch, a reaction that he ignored. “I told you that I will always bring you whatever you need. Abrielle, I’m your friend.”
“Friend?” I snorted. “All these years I had thought a friend was a person of loyalty, not the accomplice to some lunatic with a building filled with people mindlessly following orders.” I sat up, pulled my legs to my chest, and buried my face in my knees. Blowing out an exasperated breath, I hushed my voice and looked up at Erik. “Is that why you come and check on me every day, because you’re my friend?” I refused to blink while I waited for him to respond, searching his eyes for the truth.
“Yes,” he rubbed my back affectionately. There were no tingles of manipulation, he was actually being kind. “Listen, Abrielle, you need to stop trying to heal Jeremiah. It’s really pissing him off and next time you try it you’re going to end up in 12F.”
The rooms were numbered evens for women and odds for men. They ranked between A and F in severity, or accommodations if you’re an optimistic soul. I had been in C, D, and now E. 6E: the room of solitary confinement. My comforts were a toilet, sink, and metal bed. A solid, windowless door was my only connection to the outside world.
“He’s sick, Erik, and he needs help.” I feigned concern, hoping that perhaps he would think I was speaking of a tumor or something of the sort.
Irritation flashed briefly in his eyes. “Jeremiah has healers here and they would know if something was wrong.”
The illness affecting Jeremiah was malignant for sure, but it was simply his brain. Evil stems from within, and I was determined to fix the man. I tried to heal him from afar on several occasions with each effort being halted after only a few moments. It was the last straw when I began to try and cure his insanity in the middle of the night and sang “Joy To The World” when Jeremiah came into the room. I had gotten as far as “Jeremiah was a bullfrog” before Slade was dragging me to solitary confinement.
“They obviously can’t see what I can see.” I slipped my hand into Erik’s and patted his arm. “I’m genuinely concerned for his sake,” I added with a condescending undertone.
“Alright, princess, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stood up then turned and caressed my cheek with the back of his left hand, allowing a pleasant sensation to flow down to the crook of my neck. “He’s done with the medical screening so all you have to do is have fun with your gifts now.” He gave me a wide and charming grin that sent a chill down my spine.
Looking down at my hands I asked him what he meant only to look up and see myself in an empty room. I had only been in solitary for three days, which I hoped was not nearly long enough to begin hallucinating. I shrugged it off and decided to try and sleep. Whatever would come in the morning was something I could not escape from.
2
ONE MONTH PRİOR
“Erik,” my voice shook, “I’m glad you’re okay.” My arms gave out and my body fell limp on the gurney.
The last time I had seen Erik he had been blasted with a devastating amount of energy from Vlaine who had found out that Erik was working for Jeremiah and refused to contain his rage. I had truly thought Erik was my friend. We had spent dozens of nights hanging out watching television, gossiping, studying, and joking around. Our friendship seemed real and the pain of deceit was almost too much to bear, but I had to know the truth.
“Were we ever friends or was it all just a plan to get me to Replyx?” I could not open my eyes, mostly because I did not have the strength but also because I did not want to see his face when he revealed the honesty behind our amity.
Erik cleared his throat. “I would like to think that we are still friends.”
I forced my eyes open for a brief moment then allowed them to close once again. “I was kidnapped and brought to Jeremiah’s lair and I’m sure you had a big hand in all of this.” My voice was shaky and my breathing labored from the agony still enveloping my body. I swallowed a breath before continuing. “Why?”
“Lair?” Erik snorted and paced around the room. “You make it sound like you’re in some sort of dungeon instead of a state-of-the-art research center. Jeremiah is not a bad guy, but we needed to get you out of Glaston Academy so we could protect you.” He walked back to me and rubbed the top of my shoulder to manipulate my mood. “We are the good guys.”
Protect you. A memory of when I had read Will’s mind flashed. We were discussing my constant run-ins with the Josnic boys and he had thought to himself that they could have been protecting me. If he was working with Jeremiah then he knew that he was working with the side I needed protection from.
My mind searched the possible meanings of “protect” only to come up with the idea that what they really wanted was a pristine replicator; like a lot of land set aside to be preserved and guarded from outside influences. “Protect me from what?” I sputtered with disgust. “If you�
��re a good guy then why do you have to do the whole mental manipulation thing to get me to trust you?”
He hadn’t answered, or if he had I blacked out before hearing his reply. When I woke up I was no longer in the room I had been teleported to but was on top of an actual bed. Finding myself in different places was violating and if I could send a blast of Vlaine’s energy waves without doubling over in pain, one would be headed for Jeremiah the next time I saw his face.
I wiped my hands on my shirt only to find that I was no longer in the clothes I was in before, but I was now wearing a grey sweatshirt with a blue Replyx logo on it and matching sweatpants. “Some sick mind game,” I murmured to myself, pulling at the sweatshirt.
A knock sounded on the door and I jumped back against the wall. It opened slowly and Jeremiah was standing there in a navy sweater vest atop a white collared shirt. His hair was slicked back as I had seen it before but thick black glasses now adorned his face. He could have been on a poster for a science lab, complete with a genuine smile and all.
“Good morning Abrielle.” He grinned and tucked his hands into his pockets, never crossing the line into the room. “I hope you slept well and are pleased with your accommodations. If you are feeling up to it I would love to give you a tour of our facility.”
I raised my brow at him and remained against the wall. I did not know what kind of game he was playing or what would happen if I did not do what he wanted. His demeanor was so sincere that it was hard to remind myself that he had taken me against my will.
Jeremiah tapped his head and shrugged. “Where are my manners?” He walked towards me with his hand outstretched. “I am Jeremiah, the CEO of Replyx.”
I was backed into the corner of a room wearing their version of a prisoner’s outfit. My following him around did not seem like much of a choice. “Sure,” I pursed my lips and crossed my arms, rejecting his handshake. “I’ll look at your facility.”
Jeremiah’s gait was rather elegant as he led me out of the room and into a long white hallway. Gently, he closed the door behind us. I noticed the peculiarity of the 8C etched onto a metal plate of the room we had just left and 12F on the one directly across the hall. The numbering system seemed completely nonsensical to me at the time. Part of me wanted to make a sarcastic comment about their alphanumeric ineptitude, but later I would come to realize that it was a scare tactic engrained from my very first memories of Replyx.
A petite woman holding a clipboard had been waiting outside the room for Jeremiah and me. Before following along for the tour she gave me a quick, sweet smile. I stared at her for a moment trying to figure her out. The emotions coming off her seemed to be ones of sincerity. There was angst coming from her in waves. She broke our eye contact and looked towards Jeremiah who was holding a door open to a large atrium at the end of the hallway.
Immediately after stepping beyond the glass door, a wooden walkway began that weaved throughout a museum worthy tropical solarium. Beneath the cedar planks was a Koi pond that curved between various trees, flowers, and ferns. Turtles lay on rocks and tropical birds fluttered about. Small pickets in the dirt identified the species of each tree and the location it was native to. It was truly spectacular.
Upon the end of the walkway was a door that led to a hall of laboratories. Glass walls allowed you to peek in and view the workers huddled over microscopes and notebooks. One room was lined with refrigerators leading to an immense autoclave resting against a wall that had a recreation room on the opposite side.
The place was amazing. It was the type of company anyone would dream of working in. Jeremiah led me by the different laboratories and at the far end of the floor was a cafeteria. He pulled out a seat and told me to sit down then pushed the chair in like a gentleman would. A woman came by and put waters in front of Jeremiah, the woman holding the clipboard, and me. I was practically swooning over everything I had seen thus far at Replyx Corp.
Just as I raised the glass to take a sip of water I saw Slade come out of an elevator and turn the corner into one of the labs. A flash of him pointing a gun at Vlaine came to me and I slammed the water down and looked away. I had no idea how long I had been at Replyx or if Vlaine, or everyone else at Glaston Academy, was okay. My heart beat faster as I thought of the crooked smile that hung on Vlaine’s face whenever he entered a room.
I had been so mad at Vlaine when I saw him blast Erik with his gift. Now I wished I had just trusted his reaction and immediately found a way to stop the events that had transpired that morning. Vlaine may have been a bit brutal for my taste, but he was protective. I made a mental note to not question him in the future.
Worry lines formed underneath perfectly arched eyebrows then the woman put her clipboard down and adjusted her glasses. Her dirty blonde hair was slicked back into a bun that was complimented by her grey pantsuit.
“What?” Despite the sneer I gave her she just continued to look at me like I was a hurt puppy.
“Abrielle,” Jeremiah cleared his throat, “this is my assistant, Beatrice. She is here to monitor your mental health. You have undergone a lot of stress and we want to see that you have the best transition possible.”
“Whatever,” I scowled and crossed my arms across my chest like a bratty teen.
The woman who brought us waters came back with a few plates of appetizers along with a small menu describing four selections that were being offered for lunch. I refused to eat and sipped my water in silence as Jeremiah described each of the laboratories we had walked by. Once he finished eating he dabbed the edges of his lips with a napkin and continued on with the tour.
Tucked behind the laboratories was an elevator that Jeremiah thrust a key into just to be able to push the button. After a short ride in the out-of-place industrial elevator we stepped into a short corridor with obnoxiously bright fluorescent lighting. Rooms tucked behind half glass doors lined the edges of the strip. I looked into the doorways of the rooms to see half a dozen people, each with trepidation in their eyes. I tried to read them but I could hear nothing, only feel the intense fear they were harboring.
“Come on in.” Jeremiah snapped my attention from the faces behind the doors. He was ushering me into a room that appeared to be a small doctor’s office. Once inside, his voice was calm, but commanding. “Take a seat please, Abrielle. We need to take just two vials of blood then you can go off and explore your new room.”
“No.” I backed up to the closed door. “You are not taking my blood.”
“Trypanophobia?” There was a bit of humor to his voice.
“Yes.” I admitted then put my hands up defensively. “You aren’t touching me. I don’t know what you want with me or why you’re giving me the grand tour as if I have been elected to some great job opening, but keep your needles and crazy henchmen away from me.”
“Abrielle,” he sighed, removing his glasses to wipe them on a handkerchief, “please do not make this difficult and just sit down on the chair.” He gave Beatrice a nod and she quickly scurried from the room.
“What are you going to do to me if I don’t?” I jut my chin out like a five year old about to throw a temper tantrum.
“Sit down Abrielle.” His voice was still gentle, but tight as if he was about to yell.
I squinted at him defiantly then began to scan his body for anything that needed to be healed. I figured that my best chance to leave the room unscathed would be to heal him before he tried to stick me with any needles. Jeremiah’s eyes widened briefly then he turned towards the wall to my right and motioned for someone to enter the office. A moment later three men burst through the door behind me, grabbed me, and forced me into the examination chair.
Jeremiah walked over to the wall on the left side of the room and flicked a switch. A light came on from the other side revealing a glass panel looking into the room next door. A person was strapped onto an operating table but I could not see who it was. Just as I was straining my neck to see the face of the person on the table their head turned towards me and I saw
a gaunt and grey Nicholas.
“Oh my God,” I cried. “Nicholas! What did you do to him?” Trepidation blanketed the anger that I wanted to surge through my demanding question.
“Erik made it clear that he didn’t want anything to happen to you, but he did mention that you’re very loyal to your friends. Please sit down and allow us to take a few small samples of your blood.” A tall figure walked into the room with Nicholas and strapped his limbs down. “For every minute you deny my request, your boyfriend will suffer.”
The urgency to get Nicholas out of Replyx made it difficult to remain calm. “Okay,” I sat back in the chair, “go ahead and take your blood samples.”
My mind swept over Jeremiah’s words, lingering on the word “boyfriend.” Nicholas was not my boyfriend, and Vlaine was not officially either. My mouth fell open at the memory of the images of a fake relationship I had shown Erik. Why would his request hold so much weight at Replyx, anyhow?
I kept my eyes fixed on Nicholas while one of the men tied an elastic tourniquet around my arm. Jeremiah’s hand raised up, outstretched towards my friend. The moment Jeremiah’s hand was level with his chest Nicholas began shaking violently as he sent brutal waves of electric energy at him.
“Stop!” I screamed, tears pricking the edges of my eyes. “I’m letting you take my blood. I told you that you can, so leave him alone!”
Whimpers laced with agony emanated from the room Nicholas was being held. Jeremiah’s hand dropped back to his side. I shuddered and looked away from my friend’s tortured face. Silent tears streamed down my cheeks as guilt and uselessness clenched my chest.
