“Landon? Is everything all right?” Dr. Márquez asked, speaking loud enough so that Landon could hear him through the closed door. His voice drew him back to the present. It seemed like he’d been staring at himself for hours, dumbfounded by the battered doppelgänger staring back at him. “Please be quick. We have quite a few tests to run.”
“Oh yes, everything’s fine.” Landon reached into the shower stall and turned on the hot water before he started to undress.
When Landon reopened the glass door, steam exuded from the shower stall. Landon hesitantly stepped into the stream of running water. It felt like a blanket that was just pulled out of a hot dryer. It was comforting and familiar. It was amazing. As he washed himself, he felt as if he was slowly shedding off pieces of his harsh reality and watching them swirl down the drain. Like a time machine, it slowly peeled back the days, erasing the remnants of dirty streets, of the sweat from his bloodcurdling race through the city, and of the countless nights rolling around on asphalt. As he bathed, he was transported back to the normalcy of his life before everything happened. He was back in his room, listening to music on his bed, dreading the end of the summer. He could smell his mother’s delicious cooking as she prepared dinner. He even welcomed the memory of his father sitting on the couch yelling at the television.
He meticulously cleaned himself, ensuring that he removed every speck of dirt from his body. He even washed his hair four times, not satisfied with its cleanliness until it squeaked under his fingertips. The entire process took quite a while longer than he anticipated, and after that shower, Landon felt so relaxed and rejuvenated that all of his worries became a distant memory from where he was at that moment.
With his towel around his waist, he walked over and sat on the bench, staring at the set of white clothes beside him. He grabbed the top garment and pulled it toward him. It was surprisingly soft compared to what he had expected. Meticulously sterilized clothing didn’t really give Landon much hope.
He unfolded the shirt and began to pull it on, but as he threaded his arms through the sleeves, he started to feel uneasy. What is going on here? What is this place? To Landon, everything happened so quickly and so strangely. He obeyed these random people who said they could help him, but he had no idea what he was going to find out, or if they were really going to help at all. With a loud knock on the door, Landon was startled back into reality.
“How’re you doing?” Dr. Márquez asked through the door.
“I’m . . . I’m fine,” Landon replied. “I’ll be out in a second.”
Landon stood up and finished changing his clothing, donning the white drawstring pants, loose shirt and awkward slippers. Upon re-entering the hallway, Dr. Márquez was waiting, now with a clipboard in hand.
“Shall we?” Dr. Márquez asked rhetorically.
Over the next few hours, Landon was taken through a series of exams. As they progressed, Dr. Márquez always seemed to explain what was happening in far too much detail for each test. They seemed to want to measure things that made little sense to Landon, and the sheer thoroughness of the tests was strange. He was weighed, but the process included numerous different scales that Dr. Márquez said measured the weight of different parts of his body, like each individual internal organ and his bones. He was measured, which seemed to take forever, because they recorded distances as small as the space between each knuckle on his fingers and toes and the distance from the top of his lip to the base of his nose. Landon was even put through an extensive amount of other medical tests he had heard of before but never experienced: EKGs, MRIs, CAT scans, and blood tests. It seemed to Landon that they studied everything about him.
Once he finished what he thought was another MRI, he felt exhausted. He hadn’t eaten anything all day and these tests seemed to go on and on. There appeared to be no end in sight.
“Okay, Landon, we just have one more thing to do. If you would follow me.”
After a brief walk down the hallway, Dr. Márquez led Landon into Room 132. It was a rather large room, compared to the others, and it was bathed in bright white light. In the middle of the room a steel gurney was bolted to the floor with a small metal tray sitting beside it, and along the back wall was a long mirror.
“Landon, if you would just take a seat on the gurney, someone will be with you shortly to administer the final test,” Dr. Márquez said from the entrance, after which he shut the door.
Landon was alone and consumed by silence and sterility. He wandered around, trying to kill time until the other doctor came in. He walked up to the long mirror and took a close look at himself. He was so thin. Weeks on the streets had taken a toll on his body and he now saw nothing but skin and bones. At least I’m clean, he thought.
Eventually, he strolled over to the steel gurney and sat on the flat portion of it, but for Landon, waiting was a bad thing. As he sat there he began to notice things; things like the leather straps attached to the gurney, and that sitting on the small metal table beside him rested a large syringe with a long needle and next to it, a vial of a strange opalescent chemical. Landon picked up the vial to see if he recognized the name of it, but it wasn’t labeled.
• • • • •
“It’s a unique compound of my own creation,” Dr. Dodgson said as he rotated around in his swivel chair. He sat at a console of monitors, each of them showing the test results from the numerous examinations Landon underwent. Brain scans and body measurements were all displayed on the various screens, showing every angle of Landon’s medical profile. “It’s a mixture of a psycho-stimulant that excites the cerebral cortex, as well as a cocktail of psycho-suppressants that reduces any extraneous activity in other regions of the brain. I also added a small quantity of a general anesthetic and paralytic to render the subject unconscious and immobile while the compound takes effect. Without it, subjects displayed signs of extreme pain.
“I developed it to verify the status of the subject and to determine how advanced their abilities are. In layman’s terms, it allows the subject to experience their apocratusis internally while manifesting their abilities externally. In their mind, they are reliving the moment that triggered their abilities, but the interesting part is that their abilities are part of the memory. So, when the memory comes to the forefront of their mind, their abilities will reappear externally, especially with the aid of the compound. Now, judging by the evidence, we’re in for quite the spectacle.”
The small observation room from which Dr. Dodgson operated was hidden behind the one-way mirror in Room 132. Joining him in the room stood Dr. Longfellow and a man in a well-tailored blue suit. He had salt-and-pepper hair and a stoic demeanor.
“What evidence exactly do you speak of?” the man asked.
“Well apart from his test results, which show the medical cues consistent with our other subjects, the field team says that the site of his apocratusis looked as if a bomb had gone off. The entire place was destroyed. But to top it off, look at this.”
Dr. Dodgson rolled over to a blank computer monitor and brought up an Internet browser, clicked a few times and typed in something quickly.
“This is a story that popped up on a blog about three hours ago. The story states that the writer was on a private tour of a museum this morning, and that when she was leaving, she watched our subject stumble into the street. He apparently lifted an oncoming bus off the ground to save himself. Evidently, he drew in quite a crowd but ran away shortly after.” Dr. Dodgson continued to scroll down the blog entry. Once he reached the bottom of the page, he turned to the man and said, “Sir, you’ll want to see this. They seemed to have snapped a photo of it.”
The photo showed a city bus lifted some six feet off the ground, a crowd gathered across the street, with some people pointing, others gasping, and front and center, a boy crouched on the ground. He wore a pair of dirty jeans and a muddied yellow t-shirt. The man leane
d in closer to the screen.
“You are saying this boy here”—the man pointed at the guy in the photo and looked up to the thin boy with messy dark hair sitting with his back to them in the examination room—”is the same boy sitting in front of us?”
Both Dr. Dodgson and Dr. Longfellow raised their heads and looked long and hard at Landon, who sat unaware of the audience gazing at him.
“Yes, sir,” Dr. Dodgson said. “They are one and the same.”
“But that should be impossible!” Dr. Longfellow exclaimed as he stared wide-eyed at the monitor. “That bus must weigh upwards of ten tons, not to mention the weight of the people inside! His body should have collapsed on itself from the stress of it all.”
“What are you saying, doctor?” the suited man asked.
“What I’m saying is that, consistently, subjects have only ever been able to reach a lifting capacity of thirty-five times their body weight, at a maximum. Physics shouldn’t allow for anything more than that, so what you’re seeing here should be impossible. His body should have compressed into itself from the pressure.”
Moments later, the door to the observation room opened and Dr. Márquez entered.
“We’re ready. She should be entering the room momentarily,” Dr. Márquez said as he walked up to the glass. “Ah yes, here she is now.”
Beyond the glass, Sofia Petrovanya entered the examination room and shut the door.
“Sofia? What are you doing here?” Landon asked. He started to blush, embarrassed by the medical clothes he wore.
“I requested to do this for you,” Sofia replied. “I told you before you got in the car with me that I’d answer your questions. It’s now time to answer some of them.” As she spoke, she walked over to the small table next to the gurney and picked up the vial of milky liquid. “This substance has the ability to draw out memories. In particular, the memory of the night you’ve forgotten.”
“God, she’s good,” Dr. Dodgson said under his breath as he and the other observers watched Sofia convince Landon to lie back in the gurney and let her strap him down with the leather restraints. They also watched as she drew the milky white compound into the large syringe and comforted Landon as she injected it into his arm.
“I’ll come back once you’ve awakened. Don’t worry, everything will be fine,” Sofia said as Landon dozed off into a drug-induced slumber. He was unconscious by the time Sofia left the examination room.
In the observation room, the three doctors and the suited man stood there, silently waiting for some sign that Landon was reacting to Dr. Dodgson’s compound. They didn’t even pay attention to Sofia as she entered the room and joined the men along the glass.
“Anything yet?” she asked.
“No, nothing. The anesthetic seems to have taken effect, so it should be any minute now. When the compound begins to react with the brain you’ll see a spike in his heart rate on this monitor.” Dr. Dodgson pointed to a monitor on the console next to him but never took his gaze off Landon lying unconscious in the examination room.
Mere seconds later a loud beeping sound began to fill the silent observation room. The pulse of it continued to elevate until it sounded somewhat like Morse code. They all stared in anticipation, waiting to see what was in store. Suddenly, Landon’s entire body stiffened, his back arched and his head sprung backwards.
“Is this supposed to happen?” the suited man asked.
“Well sir, we have no precedent for this reaction. His heart rate appears to be within the safe range, but the paralytic should have removed any bodily reaction,” Dr. Dodgson replied with an obvious tremor in his voice.
As the observers continued to stare into the examination room, they watched the gurney began to shake. The small metal table, the half-empty vial, and the syringe lifted into the air, and a strange noise began to emanate from the walls. It groaned as if metal was buckling under pressure.
“Are we safe in here?” Dr. Márquez asked as he erratically shifted his head left and right, following the creaking sounds.
“This glass is twelve inches thick and it’s reinforced by high grade steel. We should be completely safe,” Dr. Longfellow answered. Following his response, another roaring sound of buckling metal reverberated through the room, which caused him to crouch down. “We should be,” he added tremulously.
Sofia and the suited man stood unfazed. They watched unaffected as the objects in Room 132 spun vigorously around. They gazed intently as Landon’s body lifted a few inches off the gurney, only held down by the leather straps. They stayed focus as the walls sounded as if they were going to crash in upon them. They paid no attention to the cracking of the monitors in the observation room or to Dr. Dodgson’s cup of coffee as it floated off the console.
The doctors, however, scrambled around the room. Dr. Dodgson feverishly typed things into different computers, attempting to complete his actions before the screens cracked and went black. Dr. Márquez ran back and forth between the glass and the door, trying to decide whether he wanted to stay any longer, and Dr. Longfellow rapidly wrote on a clipboard, that was until his glasses floated off his face and he began to chase them around the small room. All of the doctors let out a little gasping scream as they rose a few inches off the ground, one by one. Even still, Sofia and the suited man remained calm and collected.
After a few seconds of floating, Sofia and the suited man noticed Landon’s body go limp and fall back onto the gurney. Instantly, all of them dropped back to their feet and the objects coursing through the air dropped to the ground. The syringe, however, was lodged into the large pane of glass, and cracks snaked outward from its impact point.
“I have never in my life seen something like that!” Dr. Dodgson ran around the observation room in a frenzy, pushing buttons and clicking switches. “That was insane!”
“Completely safe,” Dr. Márquez said sarcastically between pants. “Look at the state of this place! Look at the glass! This place isn’t safe!” Perched on the edge of a full-blown panic attack, his voice got higher and higher with every sentence.
“Interesting,” the suited man said, finally turning away from the glass. “Inform Dr. Wells that I’d like him to pay special attention to this one, and I want to remain constantly updated on his progress. What’s his name again?”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Landon Wicker, that’s his name,” Dr. Longfellow said as he cleaned his cracked glasses on his lab coat. Without responding, the suited man strolled out of the observation room.
“I should get in there. He’ll be waking soon, and he shouldn’t have to be alone after that,” Sofia said. She seemed disturbed by the terrible display of power.
• • • • •
Sofia stood by Landon’s side for about ten minutes before he began to stir. Once he opened his eyes, he lay there emotionless, staring blankly into Sofia’s face, almost as if he was looking past her. Tears welled up in his eyes and fell down the side of his face, but Landon didn’t pay any attention to it. He was numb.
Sofia placed her hand on his shoulder, attempting to comfort him with her soft touch, but Landon didn’t respond. He merely continued to stare at her. Water streamed over his temples and disappeared in his hair.
“Landon, it’s okay.” Sofia spoke reassuringly. She didn’t need him to tell her what he saw. “It was an accident. You had no control.” As she spoke, she delicately removed the restraints that still held Landon on the gurney.
Landon sat up, turned his face away from Sofia and cleared the tears from his face.
“Landon, please, look at me. Please,” Sofia said. Her voice sounded gentle and pleading. Landon took a quick breath in through his nose and then turned his body around to face Sofia, who looked at him with large, compassionate eyes.
“Landon, we can help you. That is why I brought you here. Yes, what happened is a grea
t tragedy, but you’re special. Even if you don’t believe it now, you have a gift, and we can teach you how to use it—control it. There are hundreds of other kids around your age who have come to us with the same abilities, and we teach them to master their skills, so that things like what happened to you don’t ever happen again. We can protect you. If you choose to stay, we can make everything right. The police will stop looking for you, and you’ll be free to live a happy life after you’ve learned what you need to know. Now, will you stay? You said you wanted to know what was happening to you, and we can show you. What do you say?”
Sofia’s words were the only comfort Landon had against the torturous memory he just endured. Her voice was soft, and he didn’t comprehend everything she said. His mind reeled from the experience, and he still felt a bit groggy from the anesthetic. Landon just nodded. He never spoke a word; all his did was lightly nod, Yes.
“Excellent, Landon,” Sofia replied. “Trust me, you’ll find yourself here.”
With the help of Sofia, Landon lifted himself up and stepped onto the debris-covered floor of the examination room. He then proceeded out into the medical wing hallway. Sofia walked beside him, welcoming him to the Gymnasium.
CHAPTER FOUR
ORIENTATION
Sofia escorted Landon into a small room. It was simple and sterile with a bed covered in white linens and a small white table with a single chair pushed under it.
The Search for Artemis (The Chronicles of Landon Wicker) Page 5
