“I’m sure you’ve heard the story that tends to go around of the mother who miraculously picked up a car that had fallen onto her child. Well, what if that kind of strength could be controlled…or harnessed? What if a person could be in a constant state of readiness with the capabilities of producing that kind of strength at the drop of a hat?” Victor stood up and proceeded to walk around the room.
“That very question was one that was posed here by the minds you see present in this very room; and has been a question of which we’ve made and continue to make numerous attempts at answering. Until Blake came along, our attempts almost always failed. We were starting to get discouraged, to say the least. You see, Celaine, there aren’t too many people whose bodies can handle the stress placed upon them by a constant river of adrenaline flowing through their veins. We simply had to learn more about adrenaline, including its effects on the human body, and counteract those effects the best we could.”
“When a person has adrenaline flowing through their system, their muscles contract more than they normally would when their body is in a state of calmness. In a state of tranquility, our blood flows easier throughout our muscles. Additional oxygen is, in turn, carried to them by this extra blood, allowing the muscles to function at elevated levels. Our skeletal muscles, however, are activated by electrical impulses from the nervous system. When stimulated, these muscles contract. It is the same contraction that occurs when one lifts an object or throws a punch at someone. However, in a state of calmness, we only use a very minute percentage of our muscles’ capabilities. It’s only when we’re confronted with the danger that precipitates the fight or flight response that we can transcend our perceived limitations and simply act. This fact is illustrated after a person is electrocuted, wherein they experience a sudden and violent contraction of the muscles, throwing them an impressive distance from the source of the electrocution. Many people assume it’s the blast that catapults them through the air when it’s their muscles’ response to the immediate danger that actually does this.”
“Okay,” I interrupted. “From what I’m gathering, I’m going to be electrocuted in some fashion to produce adrenaline?”
“Yes. In a sense.”
“Would you mind explaining to me how exactly it is I’m not going to die from that?”
“It’s a crap shoot,” Dr. Martin chimed in.
“Yes,” Victor agreed. “That is a good description for it.”
Well, that’s just beautiful, I thought to myself. Knots began to form within the depths of my stomach, making me wonder if the fight or flight response would allow me to get the hell out of here right now. After deciding that, no, it probably wouldn’t and determining that, after I was caught by Blake that I would most likely be snapped in half like some defenseless fork, I decided to stay put. Nonetheless, it irritated me to think that everything I’d given up would have been for nothing if I died here today. This would mean that I’d devastated the people I dearly loved just to fulfill a pipe dream.
“However,” Dr. Harris interjected, taking me away from my morbid thoughts, “we haven’t lost a single person since Blake. We’ve refined our technique and have thus far been able to control the side effects.”
“Side effects?” I asked. Obviously, I was in for more than I bargained for.
“An increased amount of adrenaline naturally raises your blood pressure, increasing your heart rate. Many of our failures sustained fatal heart arrhythmias when their bodies simply couldn’t handle the adrenaline rush any longer. However, with that being said, we have been successfully able to counteract the effects of it with a cocktail of daily medications including beta blockers, antidepressants, ADHD medications, antihypertensives and multivitamins. Plus, you will be asked to wear a heart monitor at all times so we can constantly monitor your heart functions to determine if you’re in danger of going into cardiac arrest.”
“You said I wouldn’t need to sleep anymore…is it because of the adrenaline rush?”
“It’s not that you won’t need sleep anymore. Your body, although much more resilient, won’t be invincible, and sleep will still be the only real way it can thoroughly repair and recharge itself. You will be given sedatives to take to calm you down enough to get to sleep when necessary. Blake usually only sleeps around three days a week and always seems well rested. Our bodies are all different. Only time can tell how yours will react.”
“What does this procedure entail?”
“We will be performing an operation wherein we will insert this into the base of your brain stem.” Dr. Harris held out a small metallic rod in his hand. My best estimation put it to be around an inch in length. “This transmitter emits enough electrical waves to keep your brain stimulated, producing adrenaline.”
“Again, how does this not limit my body in other ways or make my essential organs fail. I mean, this can’t possibly be good for a person’s body.” I looked at the transmitter, bewildered. The prospect of brain surgery rendered me extremely uncomfortable.
“Blake and the others have done exceedingly well. The pharmacological therapy we have been able to come up with has successfully stabilized their bodies, preventing the severe limitation of essential functions while still maintaining the same exceptional physical level of performance.”
“Others? Do you mean that Blake had another partner aside from the one that was recently killed?”
“Yes. He had two others, in fact,” Victor chimed in. “But don’t worry, their demise had nothing to do with the surgery or the subsequent effects it will have on your body. Just because your body is being enhanced to an almost impervious state doesn’t mean you’re going to be immortal. You still need to maintain your wits about you and not be so cavalier with your newfound abilities. Your predecessors didn’t see it that way and decided to play hero instead of working together as a team.”
“How did the public not know there were others?”
“All of Blake’s partners were men of the same build, and it’s not exactly like we hold press conferences here. No one speaks of this place, where it’s located or what we do. As far as the public is concerned, we don’t exist.”
“Why are there just two people at a time? Wouldn’t an army be a little more successful and ultimately fulfill your purposes?”
“Do you honestly think that would be wise, Celaine? Let’s say, theoretically, we build an army. A few of them start having delusions of grandeur or simply go off the deep end and decide to revolt. Do you know what kind of mayhem we would have on our hands? It could be a catastrophe in and of itself the likes of which not even The Man in Black could produce. We’d lose everything, our integrity, our funding…not to mention the impact it would have on the public.”
“Funding? So, this is a government project after all?”
Victor let out an amused chuckle. “Oh, Celaine, you’re too smart for your own good. What do you say we get started now as poor Blake is in desperate need of some help. Particularly, if the Man in Black shows his face around here in the near future.”
“Don’t you think his existence is kind of odd in a way?”
Victor raised an eyebrow. “Pardon me?”
“Doesn’t his mere existence beg the question of how?” How was he created? Is there another place churning out super villains just like this place is churning out super humans?”
“Those are answers we won’t know until The Man in Black is dealt with, which we can only hope will be soon.” Victor picked up a scalpel and proceeded to check out his appearance in its reflective surface. Apparently satisfied, he set it back down. “Now, the surgery will take approximately three hours to complete, but you will be out of it for a good day thereafter. When you return to consciousness, you will be exceptionally sore and most likely regret ever coming here or perhaps even being born for that matter. But, in a few days, you will notice a difference in your body. We will immediately begin conditioning you at that time.” Victor looked up at me with an eerie twinkle in his eye. “Unless
you’ve changed your mind about going through with this?”
I glanced at him. “There is no way I’m going to back out now. I made a promise a long time ago, and I’m not one to break my promises. Besides, something tells me that even if I wanted to back out, I wouldn’t be able to.”
A look of surprise briefly came over Victor’s face but was quickly replaced with the same snide chuckle he exuded a moment ago. “Like I said, you’re too smart for your own good. Well, Celaine, I will leave you to the capable hands of these fine gentlemen. When I see you next, you will literally be a new woman.”
“I can’t wait.”
Victor turned and left the room. I looked over at Dr. Martin expectantly while butterflies threw a party in my stomach.
“Well,” Dr. Martin began, “it’s now or never. In the room next to the wash basin are a couple of hospital gowns. I don’t think I have to explain to you what the drill is with the gowns. Once you’ve changed, hop up on that table over there and we’ll proceed.”
Though only a few feet from me, the journey to the changing room seemed like it took forever plus an eternity to complete. Upon entering the room, the door shut behind me with a loud thud, making me jump. The events of the day had taken their toll on my nerves as well as my body. I felt dizzy and quickly sat down on the floor. In my mind, I knew I was doing the right thing by being here. After all, hadn’t this been everything I’d prayed for during the last ten years? Still, my nerves were shot at the prospect of what this surgery would do to me. Would I still be me? If I were to defeat The Man in Black, allowing me to be able to resume my normal life again, would Chase still want the new woman that I was going to become? Chase. The thought of him sent a wave of sadness rushing through my body. I wished he could be here with me now, to hold me and tell me it was all going to be all right.
Not wanting to delay the inevitable anymore, I stood up and began undressing. The gowns were neatly folded on shelves in the back of the room. I folded my clothes, swapping them out for one of the blue-striped gowns. The thin sheath did nothing to shield the chill in the air. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the back of the gown and held it as I made my way back out of the room, being careful not to accidentally give a show to whomever may be sitting in the viewing room. Drs. Martin and Harris were fully outfitted in their surgical attire and were ready for me when I walked out. I nodded at them, climbing up onto the table.
“Okay,” Dr. Harris said, “lay back, close your eyes, count backwards from 100, and then sweet dreams.”
I reclined on the table, taking in a couple of breaths to sooth my nerves. Dr. Harris put the mask over my face, reaching over to turn on the anesthesia. Just when I could feel myself starting to drift off, I looked over in the direction of the viewing room. Sitting on one of the chairs watching over me was Blake with a look of pity etched upon his face.
Chapter Fifteen
The Theory
It had been three days since Chase Matthews last saw her. They say that time was supposed to heal all wounds, but to him it was like treating a laceration with a band aid. The damage had been done; a deep cut through the skin covered up by a more appealing shell. He sat in the audience of the packed Met Theater, trying to put on a front that pronounced more strength than hopelessly damaged. He was failing miserably, as anyone and everyone could tell. Even complete strangers looked at him with empathetic glances. Seated next to him were Carrie and Jim. For the last two days they’d comforted their son, making futile attempts at lifting his spirits, trying to bring him out of his virtually comatose state.
Exactly forty-eight hours ago, Carrie received an unusual letter in the mail. Within five minutes after having read it, she was on the road to his apartment to be with him. He’d missed work the past couple of days, which was highly unusual for him, and only got out of bed when nature called. Carrie sat with him at his apartment, forcing him to eat and drink, trying her best to console him in his endeavor to find the reasoning behind the events that had transpired.
Carrie, Jim and MaKayla had all known about his plans to propose to the woman they’d all grown quite fond of over the years. MaKayla always wanted a big sister and was thrilled that her brother had finally chosen a candidate that met with her stringent standards. Celaine and MaKayla had clicked right away, often engaging in girl talk and shopping trips.
Needless to say, they were waiting impatiently by the telephone on the night he was to propose, growing increasingly restless as the hours went by, and then ultimately becoming concerned when their phone calls went unanswered. Concern grew rapidly into alarm after receiving a message that Celaine’s phone had been disconnected when they attempted to reach her. They’d been seconds away from making a call to the police when Carrie received the letter in the mail, and it all suddenly started to make sense. She looked over at her son with a half-hearted smile. Despite the obvious attempt at being all right, he wasn’t even remotely there. Her son was no stranger to break-ups. He was handsome, having had several girlfriends. However, none of those girls struck him the way Celaine had. Just a mere three weeks into their relationship, Carrie knew that she was the one for her son. He’d never looked at any of them the way he looked at her.
A hush fell over the crowd, forcing Chase to concentrate on the stage instead of his own misery. MaKayla was so devastated by Celaine’s unexplained departure that her choir teacher, Ms. Appleby, asked her if she wanted to back out of performing tonight. After putting some thought into it, and with the help of Jim’s insistence, she ultimately decided to proceed as planned. Now, she stood on the stage, facing the audience. It was her first solo performance. On top of being nervous, Chase could tell that his sister’s heart just wasn’t into it like it had been the week prior. MaKayla had always had a beautiful voice but had been far too shy to let others in on that fact. It had been Celaine who’d been able to bring her out of her shell by encouraging her to try out for the choir. In fact, it was during one of Celaine’s motherly interactions with his sister that he’d first realized he’d fallen deeply in love with her, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that she’d been put here specifically for him.
MaKayla was singing “Evergreen” from the Phantom of the Opera, channeling Christine Daae´ to perfection. He listened to his sister nervously, knowing that she had reservations about being able to hit the last note of the song. She’d been practicing it for months, prompting Carrie to invest in a pair of ear plugs after the one hundredth run-through. All the worry was all for naught, though. At the end of her solo, MaKayla hit the last note with such expertise that applause unanimously exploded from the audience, eliciting a smile of brotherly pride over his face. It was the first time he’d smiled in the last seventy-two hours. After the concert, Chase searched the crowd until he found his sister, sneaking up on her and wrapping his arms around her waist in a bear hug.
“I take it you were impressed with my performance,” she beamed.
“You were amazing. I never knew you had those kind of pipes on you.”
“I have Celaine to thank for that. She really brought them out of me.” The mere mention of her mentor’s name made her instantly sullen. “Have you heard from her yet?”
“No,” he replied quietly.
“You will. You’ll see. She’ll come back to us. I mean, what’s not to love about us, right?” she said, choking back tears.
“I hope you’re right, kiddo.”
“Just do me a favor, okay?”
“Anything.”
“Take a shower. You’re starting to smell pretty rank.” Chase forced a laugh, tousling her hair. “Hey, don’t mess up the do.”
Carrie and Jim appeared from the depths of the mob with the bouquet of roses they’d bought in honor of their daughter’s newfound superstardom.
“We’re so proud of you!” Jim exclaimed, hugging his daughter.
“Hey, something good had to come out of this week, right?”
“I suppose you’re right, kiddo.”
****
Chase returned home two hours later after convincing Carrie that her presence, although appreciated, wasn’t necessary and that he’d be returning to business as usual tomorrow. Nonetheless, the apartment seemed empty without her. It emanated a lifeless, cold feeling that made him long for Celaine’s presence. In the middle of his living room, he stood motionless in a state of contemplation until finally deciding to scour the apartment for a box. Let the healing process begin, he thought, unconvinced.
After emptying cupboards, searching through closets, and even overturning couch cushions, he located a shoe box buried under a pile of dirty laundry in his bedroom. He took the box to the couch and sat down as though a moment of contemplation would change what he knew needed to be done. For several minutes, he sat on the couch in the middle of his sparsely decorated living room, staring at the box, wondering whether he had the strength to do it and live up to his promise to Carrie.
After several minutes, he stood up and proceeded to walk around the perimeter of his apartment, gathering all of the photographs and mementos that had defined his life over the last couple of years. With the box overflowing, he located some room in the back of his closet and shoved it, along with the memories it contained, away. Out of sight and out of mind. Perhaps, for more fickle-minded people, that concept held water, but to him it was full of holes.
With all of the photographs, trinkets and notes gone, his apartment seemed even more barren and desolate. Task completed, he once again plopped down on the couch, staring off into space before forcing himself to snap out of it by turning on the television. He’d never been much of a drinker, but still kept some alcohol in his refrigerator as, every once in a while, he and Celaine had used it to unwind. Trey also appreciated a good drink every now and then, usually raiding his kitchen whenever he came to visit. Anymore, it seemed as if he was only buying the beer to keep Trey happy. For times such as this, he was happy he did. Feeling a distinct urge to escape from reality, he stood up and headed to the kitchen, where he opened the refrigerator in the hope of finding something to do the trick.
Enigma Black Page 14
