Oculus (Oculus #1)

by J. L. Mac

  “Okay. Yes.” I sit quietly listening to him rattle off the Security contract. Nothing about it seems to be outside the realm of normal protocol for a department that must handle sensitive information.

  “That’s it. Just need you to scan and we can proceed.” A drawer slides open and a moment later Ingram’s fingers are beneath my chin. The handheld device scans my useless eyes announcing, “Scan. Accepted.”

  “Now what?” I ask, feeling a little more comfortable. I’ve signed the proverbial dotted line that all security employees do and it sends a trill of relief and excitement coursing through me.

  “Iris, have I made you feel uncomfortable?”

  “No. I guess not,” I lied.

  “Surely you understand by now that you have… piqued my interest.”

  “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” the pad of his thumb brushes across my lower lip forcing me to pull away.

  “You aren’t interested? If you’re going to tell me that you aren’t even remotely affected by me then I’ll be forced to call you a liar.”

  “I’m not interested in being hunted, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Well that’s unfortunate. I wouldn’t do anything you wouldn’t enjoy. Thoroughly.”

  “I just want to work. That’s why I came here.”

  “Well, maybe I can ask Hattie Brighton and Cade Nielsen how to convince you. Of course, it didn’t appear that your best friend was too impressed with her boyfriend’s little party last night. Reckless of you to go anywhere with Cade Nielsen.”

  “How do you know about them?”

  “I’m chief of security. It’s my job to know. Everything. And now you work for this department too.”

  “I thought you said I work for you. Isn’t that what you’re getting at here?” I snap, feeling cornered.

  “Semantics don’t you think?” he taunts, tossing my words right back at me.

  “What do you want?” I have hope that my frankness will make me appear as unruffled as I wish I were.

  “You know what I want.”

  “And what if I don’t offer it?”

  “Then you’ll find yourself on my very short list of people I consider uncooperative and those unlucky individuals never seem to fair too well.”

  “So just to be clear, you’re exploiting me for sex?”

  “I’d call it persuasion more than exploitation.”

  “Semantics,” I grumbled.

  “Cooperate and your rebellious friends will get a pass as long as they aren’t doing anything I deem threatening. You’ll be buying yourself time to convince all of them to cease their little soirees before I’m forced to intervene. We don’t take rebellion lightly around here.”

  “How magnanimous of you.”

  “I do admire your spunk,” he says, laughing in that same way that sounds so nice which only makes me angry. “Come now, don’t be mad. You can’t be mad at me for wanting you. If you could see yourself you’d understand.”

  “Thank you?” I shake my head, feeling irritated that my brain and my body are at odds where he’s concerned. I’m an untouched twenty-one year old woman who is in the company of a man who would likely make good on his promises, but he’s a snake too! “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

  “I don’t like being at the mercy of someone else. I have power. Why not use it?”

  I have no response for that.

  “So, when, uh—”

  “When will I take you?”

  “Let’s make something clear—I’m giving it to you. You aren’t taking me.”

  “Semantics.”

  “When?” I demand.

  “I’ll work all that out,” he promises, planting a knot of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. “But for now, I need you to find out when Cade Nielsen’s next meeting is and be sure to attend.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “You don’t have a choice, now do you?”

  “Fine. Is that all?”

  “For now.”

  Without saying my farewell, I make haste to get the hell away from Chief Ingram. For now.

  The grass at my feet is tall—taller than I’ve ever experienced. It brushes my legs as it sways gently in the evening air. The sun is low in the sky providing just enough light for me to see him running away from me.

  To see him…

  He moves so fluidly, so easily. He’s magnificent. “Wait,” I whisper, willing him to come back to me. I look on in wonder as he halts and turns to face me. He takes one step and then another, building to a measured run back in my direction. It takes no time for him to reach me. Without saying anything, he reaches for my hand and brings it to his face. I cup his cheek, enjoying the feel of his short beard against my palm.

  “I’m here,” he says, wrenching a gasp from me.

  “I can hear you.” I’m bewildered by hearing his voice. It’s so… him. Wild, unrefined, rough, powerful, intimidating.

  He smiles awkwardly and moves in closer to me. He’s tall and broad and lean, making me feel so very small in comparison. Though I can see him, I’m still compelled to learn his face with my fingers. He watches me closely as I trace my fingers lightly across his sharp cheekbones, his eyebrows, his chin, the defined edge of his jaw, his nose, his lips…

  My fingers drift lazily over his lips. He wraps his hand firmly around my wrist holding me there. Taking my hand in his, he kisses each of my fingertips so gently, so reverently, it hurts. It hurts so much more than normal.

  He rests my hand against his chest where I can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat. One of his big hands covers mine while his other hand cups my face. The lips that I’ll know forever, cover mine, sweeping me up in a kiss so perfect I could cry. My lips part invitingly and he obliges, releasing my hand and taking my face in his palms. His hands are calloused with the evidence of physical work but they feel warm and gentle against my skin.

  I’m pulled tightly to his body. The pounding in my chest is mirrored in the pulsing deep in my core, begging, pleading for more. His hips grind against me, his grip tightens, his tongue slips against mine then back again, mocking movements that I wish he’d recreate with his body between my parted thighs.

  “Please,” I gasp, needing more of him—all of him.

  He stops suddenly leaving me feeling bereft. His lips quirk up in amusement.

  “I do admire your spunk,” he says in a voice that isn’t his. I’m snapped from bliss at the sound of Ingram’s voice tumbling from my running man’s perfect mouth.

  I awake covered in a thin layer of sweat with my heart pounding painfully in my chest and unsatisfied desire pulsing hungrily between my trembling thighs.

  And it’s all Ingram and my running man’s fault! I’ve never had a dream of him that was so vivid or… heated. Ingram’s blunt demands and my longing for an imaginary man have my head spinning.

  I’m worried about Hattie and how I’m supposed to tell her that I want to participate in Cade’s next meeting. I’m worried about how I’m supposed to stop Cade’s meetings—meetings where he shares his views so vehemently—views that I can’t say that I completely disagree with. The situation with my father has been delicate, at best. He disapproves of my decisions and as much as I’d like to say that I don’t care, I do. I care and I don’t like feeling like I’m at odds with the only family I have.

  I keep telling myself that I have to be brave, that I am brave but nothing about my life right now feels brave. It feels like suicide and I can’t help but wish that I didn’t feel as isolated as I do.

  Tears well in my eyes and suddenly I feel as though I’m slipping beneath what used to be the glassy-calm surface of my life just to do battle with an invisible undertow. I’m not sure which is worse, knowing that if I do, I’ll drown, or knowing very well that I’m not merely slipping beneath the surface. I’m willingly and knowingly diving in headfirst.

  “Most men and women will grow up to love their servitude a
nd will never dream of revolution.” - Brave New World, Aldous Huxley

  I ONCE READ ABOUT A man that went insane after being stuck inside a huge lodge with his family. Evil spirits haunted him until they finally convinced him to attack his loved ones. I’ve always liked the story because in the end the kid got away. After a few days stuck inside this shack I think it’s best that I’m staying here alone.

  Going out during the day is impossible. The cameras might not be able to see me passing from shadow to shadow at night, but during the day they would spot me for sure. Even with the lax security Fenra Corporation has, that would be tempting fate. Beyond that, the people are always around, even in this remote area, during the day.

  Over the years I’ve slipped in and out of Corp secured zones, but I’ve never really spent any time in one. Over the last few days, I’ve had a chance to really study the people that live here. From what I’ve seen they all seem to be surprisingly happy. Kids laugh and play, people greet each other pleasantly on the street. Granted, I’ve seen the ugly underbelly of Fenra and know things aren’t always so cheery, but the average person seems pretty content.

  It’s hard to wrap my brain around how someone could be happy living here being a slave. Most of these people are owned by Fenra. They are totally dependent on The Corp for food, shelter, medicine, electricity, and security. None of them are allowed to own weapons, and the buildings here are totally indefensible. If an outside threat made it past the wall, the people here would be screwed. I suppose that’s what Fenra wants. If the populace was well armed and in secure positions, they wouldn’t be so easily enslaved.

  From what I can tell, the big attraction of this place seems to be in the amenities provided to The Corp servants. The electrical grid here is pretty stable, and food appears to be plentiful. I hear grumbling from people about short rations when they think no one is around. The people I have seen appear to be in good health, and are dressed in decent clothing.

  There is a movie theatre near the center of the complex, a few disc rental shops where employees can check out movies, and a fairly large library. After some after-hours recon, I found the movies being shown, the discs being rented, and most of the fiction books in the library are unfiltered Corp propaganda.

  On the second night of exploring, I enter the library. The security on the building is almost non-existent. Simply a set of motion detectors and a lock. Bypassing both of these takes seconds and I let myself inside, excited to see what they have to offer. Sadly, the books on the shelf are all written by the same author. O’Rhion C. Pratteo. I roll my eyes at the audacious attitude the Corps takes towards their ‘sheeple’ populace. The author name is an obvious anagram for The Corporation. Someone out there has a fucked up sense of humor.

  I pick up a few of the fiction books at random. Each is about the evils of nonconformity. Evil terrorists prey upon stupid protagonists that should really know better than to question their beloved corp. After reading through these I decide their fiction is far too distasteful for me and begin looking on other shelves.

  There is a nice collection of how-to manuals, technical journals, and operation trainers on a large wall at the far end of the library. For a week, I’ve been learning everything I can about the compound and its inner workings. Other than spying on the populace, dodging security, and running, it’s my only entertainment.

  When the sun drops down below the horizon, I will slip out of the compound and run until I feel relaxed. Each night my runs have been getting longer and longer. Between my agitation at my forced inactivity and Anna’s letter, I’m running nearly half the night. I’m really starting to question what the hell I’m still doing here. At first it was just an audacious place to hide. I should have stayed here for a few days, a week tops, then moved on. I’m sure there are lots of Resistance members looking to hire me for my next job. Instead of leaving though, I keep finding reasons to hang around.

  It’s odd, as I’m sitting in the middle of enemy territory, but I feel comfortable here. Before I read Anna’s letter, I had attributed this to my growing mental instability. Now? I’m beginning to question everything that I thought I knew.

  Fact A: I’m not, nor have I ever been, losing my mind because of genetic degradation.

  Fact B: My dreams, which have always been vivid, have become almost hyper-realistic. All five senses are being treated to a mind-blowing level of sensory input. My libido, which normally is fairly in check, is now on overload. Many of the interactions with my dream girl are now bordering on the pornographic.

  Fact C: The girl I remember, the one they used to take me to play with, was the other half of my experimental pair.

  Theory: If I’ve been dreaming about this girl my entire life, it’s possible the girl of my dreams is the other half of my experimental pair. Further, since most of the dreams involve interactions that I’ve never experienced, the girl could actually be alive and we could have some sort of psychic bond. As my dreams have increased in their detail and intensity the closer I got to Fenra, it is possible that my other half is here somewhere in Fenra.

  That would explain a lot of things that I’d been attributing to my budding madness before. The unexplainable pull I felt to come back to Fenra. The fact that I’ve stayed here far longer than I should have. My nightly trips around the compound, almost like I’m searching for something…or someone.

  It even explains the changes in my dreams. Since I arrived here, a growing sense of unease has permeated my dreams. I’m still dreaming about the girl, but half the time instead of trying to seduce her I’m trying to protect her from danger. From what danger, I have no idea. I wake up from those dreams doubly frustrated, with the urge to rip off someone’s head. It’s gotten so bad lately that I spend half the night reading.

  Besides the books, I’ve reread Anna’s letter so many times that the paper is starting to wear. I still get pissed every time I read through it. Why the hell didn’t she tell me? I thought we could talk about everything, but she kept so much from me in the end. She told me her reasons, but they sound like bullshit to me. Even after a few days, I think I’m still in shock. The funny thing is that she’s the person I’d have talked to about something that was bothering me like this. Thinking about her has left me feeling very lonely, so much so that I’ll stay up part of the day watching The Corp slaves go about their lives. Watching them has really made me think.

  I was never going to be allowed to have this. My life would have consisted of a cage, even if it was a nice cage. I would have been let out to kill, then put away like the dangerous animal that I am. The girl was obviously some sort of control or leverage for Talpa to keep me in line. Maybe they intended to threaten her safety if I refused to comply with orders. It would have been simple enough for them to give her a time-released poison before they let me see her. That way I would be forced to let them take her away to give her the antidote. It is the way I would have done it. Sometimes the things The Corps do make me feel like less of a monster. So they probably had a much worse plan in mind.

  I open the panel on the back of the shack and check the sky. The sun is now completely down and there are enough shadows for me to make my way out of the compound. Tonight, I think I will try running a little longer. Maybe I can burn off some of this energy. Slipping out of the shack, I easily make my way towards the wall. Shift change happens just after sunset. I know from observing them that most of the security people are more concerned with heading home or stowing their gear than watching their monitors.

  Once I’m over the wall and past the outer security perimeter, I start slowly. Being cooped up has made me stiff, but it only takes me a few minutes to get loosened up. Then the trees are flying by as I speed my way out into the forest. Peace descends upon me as endorphins begin to pump through my bloodstream. I wasn’t made to sit in a room for as long as I had been. My designers had made me to hunt, to kill, to stride across the world like the light hand of death. I need to find out if I’m right about the girl, one way or another,
so I can be away from this place.

  I’m an hour into my run when it happens. Sharp, searing pain in my head brings me to a crashing halt. Picking myself up off the ground I dodge into cover, already checking my head for a wound. Shockingly, there is no blood or obvious damage to find as I put my back to a tree. For a moment, the entire forest is still. Then the nocturnal noises that had been silenced by my crashing into the ground begin again. I stay crouched, unable to find anything wrong with my head. At least on the outside.

  Standing, I start running again. It takes me a moment to realize it, but I am now running back towards Fenra. That feeling, that sense of urgent danger, is back. The same ominous sensation I felt in my dreams lately. Giving myself over to instinct, I swiftly run back to the wall. Getting in is always harder than getting out. Normally, I would sneak in, but I don’t want to take the extra time. I set off the alarm at one section of the wall, and then run full speed to a section further down. I wait for security to converge on the first alarm before making my way over. I am moving through the compound by the time security makes it to the second alarm site.

  Instead of making my way back to the shack, I let my feet lead me in a different direction. Moments later, after dodging three different security patrols, I find myself outside the old hospital basement. It only takes me a few moments to realize that the security I had ran into is not for me. They are encircling the entrance to the basement, waiting in ambush for anyone inside. They are after the Junior Resistance that likes to meet here. Unfathomable terror fills me and the urge to leap out and rush down the stairs is nearly overwhelming. If it weren’t so surprising, I think I might act on it without thinking.

  Slipping around the perimeter the security teams have set, I make my way to an old scrap pile on the far side. Giving a metal sheet there a hard kick I send it clanging through the metal pile. Running at full speed I slip behind a large storage container, climbing onto it’s roof, seconds later the first security guy runs past. Ten men arrive and spread out in a standard search pattern.