by Ann Williams
Back in the lab Larkin gave Sammell a fleeting glance as he passed the man’s desk. A few moments later Larkin approached Sammell with a paper in his hand and bent down as though to point out some salient point he wanted to make.
“Is something wrong?” he asked in low tones.
“You are being watched,” Sammell responded without guile.
Larkin gave a slight jerk and darted a swift glance of shock at Sammell’s face, his glance returning almost immediately to the quivering paper in his own hand.
“Why do you say that?” His thin lips barely moved with the words.
“Bartell wants me to report on your behavior.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Larkin asked stiffly.
Sammell wasn’t certain about his reasons himself. “I wish we could meet outside work,” he muttered almost to himself.
Larkin shot him another quick glance. “Why?”
“So we could discuss…things,” he said, finishing lamely.
“What things?”
Sammell picked up the marriage document, resisting an urge to crumble it in his hand and toss it into the waste holder. “Things like this,” he muttered through clenched lips.
The information on this paper would be fed into a government computer, assimilated by it and result in his being genetically and intellectually matched with a mate.
“I do not want to get married,” he said, “I prefer living alone.”
How would he work on his own experiment with someone else living in his cell? Worse yet, if it turned out that he couldn’t send his “guests” home, how would he hide them from his new mate?
Larkin eyed him searchingly. “Perhaps we can work out a way to speak alone,” he began, suddenly breaking off when out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of two co-workers, male and female, who appeared to be taking an inordinate interest in Sammell and Larkin’s whispered conversation, making their way slowly toward Sammell’s work area.
“I think I know why the plasma jet is not working. I will try to speak with you later,” he muttered out the side of his mouth before turning away.
The approaching couple cast a quick glance in Sammell’s direction, then continued on their way. Sammell stared after them, pondering their obvious interest in his and Larkin’s conversation.
Marina’s eyes popped open. She stared at the ceiling. Taking a quick inventory, she realized two things right off the bat. Her body ached all over and she had to go to the bathroom.
“Well,” she muttered aloud, “at least I know I’m not dead.”
Elevating herself by her elbows to a sitting position, she twisted a hand behind her, shifted her weight to one hip and rubbed at a particularly tender spot at the base of her spine.
“What a nightmare,” she said aloud. Raising her knees and cupping a hand to her forehead, she closed her eyes.
She’d had the strangest dream. In it she had been lost in a large house, rushing from one immense room to another and stumbling on people reenacting a series of short skits that appeared to be scenes from history. And then she’d found herself in some bizarre hospital…
She peered cautiously through her fingers. “Oh, no,” she groaned in mounting horror, “what now?” It was impossible to see anything but a blank wall a few feet in either direction. Where was she now? Confined to a padded cell?
Maybe that’s where she belonged. Ever since she’d arrived at the park it seemed she’d gone a little crazy.
A slight sound drew her attention. “Well, at least I’m not alone,” she murmured softly, staring at the small gray squirrel. “I’m glad I didn’t imagine you.”
The squirrel, commonly known as a pine squirrel, stood on its hind legs and eyed her in silence. Suddenly it began to chatter excitedly, hopping up and down.
“I wish I knew what you were trying to tell me,” Marina said sadly. “I’ll bet you know more about what’s happened to the two of us than I do.”
The animal’s chatter stopped abruptly, but the up-and-down motion continued. Marina watched until she began to feel dizzy, then stood up.
Apparently she hadn’t been in an accident. At least not a very serious one, because her limbs all functioned normally and without pain. In fact everything seemed to function normally except for her mind—her thoughts were in a jumble.
She thought she remembered being in a hospital. But now she appeared to be in some kind of a cell. Her gaze traveled over the walls of her small prison. Was this real? Or was she dreaming?
She could see nothing but light-colored walls. On closer inspection, they looked insubstantial. Maybe…
She took two steps forward with her hands stretched out before her, palms up, and bounced three steps back. “What the—”
And then she suddenly remembered the “thing” she’d gotten trapped in at the park. Marina backed away from the wall. She’d only gone a few feet when the same resiliency at her back sent her scurrying to the center of her prison.
This was too much! She had never liked puzzles. She had no patience with them. She always read the last page of a book first, too.
Frowning, she reached out with one hand and hesitantly felt the pliable wall. Shades of Spock! It had to be some kind of an energy field.
To be enclosed in a wall of energy sounded unbelievable. But no more unbelievable than what she’d run across in the park. That’s always providing that the “thing” she’d encountered there—along with this strange wall—really existed, and she wasn’t at this very moment lying in the peaceful arms of Morpheus, beneath her favorite tree in said park.
Marina felt the wall give beneath her tentative touch and a tremor of fear ran through her. There was a distinct difference between the wall—or force field—she’d encountered in the park and this one. Nothing appeared able to pass through this one, no matter how hard she pushed. Using both hands, she began to measure it.
A few minutes later she again stood in the center of her prison with both hands on her hips, staring at her furry companion. They were confined in an area that extended from the floor to a couple of feet above her head, about six feet in length and four feet wide—or the approximate size of a grave. Her findings were not particularly reassuring.
How had she and the squirrel gotten here? Why were they here? And better still, how would they get out?
All at once Marina realized she was very thirsty and her stomach kept reminding her at ever-shortening intervals that she hadn’t eaten in a while. But at the top of her list of immediate priorities was finding a bathroom.
She stared at the wall around her, the ceiling over her, and hysteria hovered near the surface. She was not a hysterical sort of person. Then again, she had never suffered from claustrophobia, either. And having measured the diameter of her prison, she was beginning to feel distinctly uneasy, rather as though the walls and ceiling were closing in on her, while the air was slowly being sucked out.
And then she wondered if she was being observed. Someone had to be responsible for her present predicament. And that someone could at this very minute be watching the results of his—or her—labors.
“If you’re out there,” she began in a small voice, “I don’t know what this is all about, but I want you to let me out of here. Do you hear me?”
She revolved slowly, praying she was right and that whoever held her captive was out there somewhere listening. “Please—what’s this all about? Why am I here?”
She paused, listening for an answer. When none was forthcoming, close to tears, she glanced down at the squirrel at her feet, telling herself it wouldn’t do any good to get so upset.
Maybe no one was out there. Maybe they were at work, or at home, sleeping, or eating dinner. She wasn’t wearing a watch and had no idea of the time or the day of the week.
She sat down cross-legged on the floor. “I suppose I should be grateful that I’m not alone,” she said softly, holding out her hand to see if the squirrel would come to her. “But I can’t help wishing that you were six f
eet tall with black bangs and pointed ears and carried a phaser, or whatever they called it, so you could blast a hole in this wall and get us out of here.”
The animal hadn’t responded to her overture of friendship. “I’m Marina,” she said. “Don’t you remember me? I’m the one who’s been keeping you and your family in peanuts for the past couple of months.”
The squirrel tilted its head to one side, watching her for a moment without moving, then edged close enough to sniff her hand. And Marina could almost believe that in this strange place where nothing appeared rational the animal was able to understand her.
Resting an elbow on one knee and her chin on her closed fist, she studied her companion, keeping her thoughts fixed on him and off their present situation. “I wonder if you have a name? I don’t suppose I could pronounce it if I knew it, since I don’t speak squirrel.
“I’ll tell you what, how would it be if I gave you a name, so I won’t have to keep calling you ‘hey you,’ or Mr. Squirrel? That’s much too formal for friends. Don’t you think?”
The squirrel turned and began to scamper around the floor as though trying to get away from her and her silly conversation. It bumped into the wall a couple of times, turned to look at her, then began running around in circles again.
Marina rolled her eyes, then laughed. “I don’t blame you. Sometimes I bore myself. But I do like the idea of a name for you.”
She thought quickly. “How about Monday? That’s the day this bizarre adventure began. What do you say, Monday, do you like your new name?”
As though understanding and approving, Monday stopped his aimless running and sat near her crossed legs. They contemplated each other in silence.
Marina’s head began to droop. “I don’t know what it is about this place…” She yawned and put a hand over her mouth. “All I want to do is sleep…”
Sammell had been observing his guests for some time through a two-way mirror in the wall. Every word Marina spoke had come to him loud and clear over the lab’s intercom. And the question he’d been asking himself since her arrival about whether he’d have difficulty communicating with her had been answered. They spoke the same language.
Her conversation with the squirrel had fascinated him. She spoke to the animal as though they were equals. The idea intrigued him. Did her people communicate with animals? She had mentioned being unable to speak squirrel. He would have to find out about that.
All at once the woman shook her head and climbed to her feet.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered angrily. “I’m tired of being cooped up in here.” Staring directly at Sammell, though she didn’t know it, Marina demanded, “Why are you doing this to me?”
Sammell gave a guilty start before realizing that she couldn’t see him. She was voicing her question to the air.
“I know you’re out there,” she continued, “and I’ll just bet you’re watching and listening to me right now. What do you want with me? With us?” she demanded, glancing at her small companion. “Why have you brought us here?
“Damn it!” she shouted in frustration. “Answer me! Somebody answer me!”
Raising clenched fists, she shook them at her unseen host. “I want out of here! Let me out!
“What kind of a monster kidnaps a person and then lets them suffer from hunger and thirst?” A split second later she added, “I need a bathroom!”
Sammell listened in growing consternation. He hadn’t considered their need for nourishment. Though he should have realized they’d need water and a…bathroom?
He saw her sit on the floor and remove a shoe. A moment later she was banging it against the floor and yelling. He couldn’t let that continue. She would eventually draw attention from the other cells around him, and it would be impossible for him to explain why he, an unmated man, had a female in his cell. And especially one like her.
He hadn’t planned on making contact with her, not until he was more prepared for it. But the woman had changed that now, with the clamor she was making. Placing his right hand flat against a small panel inset at the top of the door, he pressed lightly. The area around his hand glowed red, then green and the door sprang open.
Without entering the room, he called, “Silence! I will bring water.”
Stunned into silence by the sound of his voice, Marina listened carefully before asking, “How do I get out of here? And what about a bathroom?”
“I do not understand…bathroom. Explain.”
Marina got to her feet slowly. Was he joking? Explain bathroom?
“A bathroom is…it’s where you go to bathe, among other, more personal, things. You know, things that might…soil your clothing?”
“Necessary,” Sammell said abruptly, “you mean the necessary.”
“Okay,” she conceded. If that’s what he wanted to call it, it was perfectly all right with her. As long as he showed her to it soon.
“How do I get beyond this wall?” Marina asked impatiently. “I can’t walk through it—believe me,” she added wryly, “I’ve tried.”
Sammell had forgotten about the protective force field he’d placed around the Recep before leaving the lab that morning. He was wearing the special glasses he’d designed to see through it. Without them, all anyone would see was a holographic image of the empty Recep.
Crossing to the computer, he touched a button hidden below the console. “You may leave the Recep now,” he said, removing the glasses and turning to face her.
Marina blinked and gave a slight shiver as the wall simply vanished. One moment it was there and the next it was gone. She now looked into the room she’d first thought to be a hospital emergency room.
“Who are you?” she asked warily. “Do I know you?”
A tall figure stepped out of the shadows at the far end of the room and started toward her. Marina took an involuntary step backward. She’d never seen anything like him.
He was wearing a one-piece jumpsuit in a shade of royal blue. It gave him a clean-cut look that impressed her. But less reassuring was the stunned expression in the dark eyes fastened on her face.
“Do I know you?” she asked again on a note of uncertainty as he paused within a yard of her.
His square jaw tensed and her eyes were irresistibly drawn to the cleft in his strong chin.
“You said you needed the…bathroom,” he stumbled slightly over the unfamiliar word, his glance resting on her eyes—blue eyes, the color of royalty.
And now he was close enough to smell that elusive fragrance she exuded. Again it made him feel light-headed. Was it some kind of defense mechanism that kept would-be predators at bay?
“I will not harm you,” he reassured her. “There is no need to defend yourself against me.”
“Defend?”
“Yes, what you wear overpowers me.”
“My clothing?” she asked in bewilderment, looking down at her shorts.
“No, the scent.”
“Scent?” Marina looked puzzled. “Scent—oh, you mean my perfume?”
“Perfume?”
“Yes, fragrance—you know, Gossamer.” she mentioned the name of the cologne she was wearing. “It’s my favorite scent.”
“Why do you wear this…perfume?”
“To smell good.”
“Your people smell bad?”
Marina drew herself up in affront. “I beg your pardon,” she said angrily. “If I smell bad, it’s your fault. I could hardly shower in that prison where you’ve kept me.”
“The…perfume is not a defense mechanism against predators?”
At first she looked flabbergasted and then she began to laugh. “Not exactly,” she answered between chuckles, going along with his act. “Just the opposite, in fact. It’s supposed to attract the male, not chase him away.”
“You wear it to attract males?” Sammell’s eyebrows were nearly at his hairline.
Marina sobered. “I wear it because I want to. Is there something wrong with that?”
Though still pu
zzled, Sammell said, “No.”
“Good. Now that we’re through with that, can I please go to the bathroom?”
“There.” He pointed toward an arched doorway at the back of the room.
Marina couldn’t help but note the strength and beauty of the hand, or the swatch of wavy gold hair that fell across his forehead when he nodded in her direction. And even though he was a kidnapper and acted kind of weird, she had to admit that he was darned good-looking.
A moment later she poked her head through the arched doorway to complain, “There’s no door.” But she complained to an empty room. Her host—or captor—was nowhere in sight.
She shrugged, deciding it was probably the lack of privacy that had sent him temporarily out of the room. Turning back to the room, which was really little more than a small cubicle, she studied it critically, wondering if it came with instructions.
As she’d entered it a light had come on. She didn’t actually see a light per se—not that she recognized, anyway—but light was coming from somewhere.
She’d seen some really bizarre decorating schemes in her time, but she’d never seen anything like this one. There were no handles or faucets in sight. The room’s accoutrements consisted of a shiny black circular projection on one wall about knee-high. She assumed it was the toilet. A three-cornered object on the wall directly opposite could be the sink, and there was something slightly resembling a shower stall in one corner.
Apart from that, the room was bare. No window, no mirror, no shower curtain, no shelves, no towels, no soap—no toilet paper! She frowned and contemplated the arched doorway but decided against seeking her host.
A moment later, she understood the omission of the paper and towels. As she centered her hands over the sink, an opening appeared in the wall and a jet of warm water mixed with soap—she hoped—automatically sprayed them. After a short interval, it sprayed them again with clear water. And when the water shut off, a beam of light dried them in seconds.
