The Ancestor

by L. J. Suarez

  “Magnificent!” the male figure proclaimed.

  “Where am I?” Six asked.

  “In a safe place.”

  Six lifted his head and stared at the metal restraints keeping him at bay.

  “I can’t move. Why?”

  “For your safety. Don’t be afraid. We are not here to hurt you.”

  “Who are you?”

  The male figure paused for a moment. “My name is Dr. Kieran.”

  “Doctor? What's happened to me? Am I in a hospital?” Six sounded agitated. He tried to inch closer but the restraints didn’t allow him to move any further.

  Kieran once again placed his reassuring hand on Six’s shoulder. “It is alright. We are just running some tests to determine your current condition. There is nothing that requires concern. Please, try to remain still.” Kieran looked up at his colleague standing across from him. “We did it, Ionne! A healthy, fully functional and reactive specimen.”

  “Indeed,” she said, sharing in his excitement. “This is an incredible breakthrough for us. No doubt our work will go down in history.”

  “Specimen?” Six said. “What... what are you talking about?” He found it difficult to breathe. Confused and disoriented, he could feel his heart racing. “What is this place?”

  Ionne turned to Kieran. “His blood pressure is rising. Heart rate is increasing at an alarming rate. He is going into shock.”

  Kieran took out a small device with a needle at the tip. He pressed a button on its side and the device made a power-up noise. “This will help you sleep,” Kieran said.

  “No ... wait ... tell me what’s going on. Please.”

  “Everything will be alright,” Kieran assured.

  “Where ... where am I? Who are you people?”

  Kieran injected the device straight into Six’s neck.

  He could feel the needle puncturing his carotid artery.

  “Rest now,” Kieran said. “You will have the answers you seek soon.”

  Six’s body became heavy and numb. The last image he saw before his vision faded was of the two hazmat-wearing beings looking down at him through the visors of their masks. His eyes rolled back.

  Like a flick of a light switch, Six’s world returned to the dark.

  • •

  3

  ––––––––

  Aaron was awakened by his four-legged friend.

  Licking his face was Max, his white Labrador. “Down Max.”

  Max ignored his master’s commands. The dog’s tongue slobbered Aaron’s cheek affectionately.

  “C’mon buddy, give me a break.” Aaron pushed Max’s face away from his.

  Finally giving up, Max jumped out of the bed and darted out of the room.

  It was too warm and cozy underneath the sheets and way too cold outside for Aaron to move from where he was. Looking toward his bedroom window, he spotted two pigeons on the outside ledge. Their bobbing heads popped into view through the wooden slats of the blinds. The morning sun rippled throughout the midtown apartment studio, leaving an orange glow in its wake. Past the bedroom doorway, a miniature model of an office building’s main lobby lay on a circular dining room table, and piles of rolled-up blueprints rested on top of a couch. Two aluminum mountain bikes rested against a furnace.

  He trifled with his gray-toned wedding band wrapped around his finger. As he closed his eyes to count a few more sheep, Sarah bounded in and landed on top of his legs.

  “Morning, sleepy head!” she said.

  Aaron groaned as he closed his eyes again. “Five more minutes, ma.”

  She rested her chin on his bare chest as she lay flat on top of him wearing only a white Gators football t-shirt. “So, I was thinking. After I make us some yummy breakfast, we could go for a nice bike ride through Prospect Park, and then tonight you can take me to see Hamilton.”

  Aaron moaned, then let out a long yawn. “That’s a lot of physical activity for one day. Been up all night working on my article. Frank wanted it in his inbox first thing,” he said, his tone mocking when he mentioned the name of his boss.

  Ever since he started working for The New York Post, Aaron had been given assignments that were less than thrilling. He couldn’t have imagined anything more soul-crushing than only writing about the latest political and celebrity sex scandals.

  “Your way with words give these stories that extra oomph,” Frank would tell him.

  Aaron fought for writing pieces in the tech or sports section, but Frank had his own preferred writers on those hot-ticket items. Even after two years of loyalty, Aaron was still being treated like a stringer. And he couldn’t just quit. The economy was still slowly recovering from the last recession. Job opportunities elsewhere weren’t exactly bountiful, especially in New York. Aaron knew he was lucky to have had a steady gig with the Post for this long considering the tough times other people were having.

  Sarah slowly rubbed his chest with the tip of her finger. “Well, all week I’ve been stuck within four walls finishing the floor plan designs for the lobby of that new office tower on the Upper West Side. I need to get out and get some fresh air before I go full-on Jack Nicholson from The Shining!”

  “Or,” Aaron paused, “we can just lie here in bed all day in our birthday suits, fool around a bit, order take-out, and watch a full Game of Thrones marathon. What d’ya say?”

  “It’s a beautiful day out and all you wanna do is lounge around and watch Game of Thrones?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.” Aaron smirked.

  “Not on my watch, mister.” Sarah propped herself up and stared down at him.

  Aaron looked into Sarah’s mesmerizing eyes. I’m the luckiest guy on the planet. No matter what was going on in his life, all his worries melted away whenever he was with her. “Get over here,” Aaron said, gesturing with his hand.

  She leaned in and their lips locked. Picking up a nearby pillow, she hit him across the head.

  “Hey!” Aaron pulled the covers over his head.

  Sarah pulled them back down as she giggled. She leaned her face close to his ear and softly whispered. “It’s time to get up.”

  ***

  The darkness was absolute.

  Lonely. Frightening.

  It felt as if he’d been shrouded in it for an eternity.

  A small stream of light broke through the empty void. The light expanded outward until it was everywhere. Opening his eyes, Six found himself lying on a bed with a blanket covering his torso. With free motion of his body, he slowly propped himself up. He felt a bit light-headed but his vision had improved, now nearly 20/20.

  The room he was in was small and cube-shaped with all four walls painted in bright colors. No one else was inside with him.

  A large metal door was adjacent to the bed. To the left was a sink with a wall mirror above it, and to the right of the sink was an enclosed, tinted glass walk-in shower. A toilet was positioned against the wall next to the bed. On the right side of the room Six saw a window covered by a white curtain. The layout resembled a hospital recovery room, though he wasn’t hooked up to any medical monitoring equipment. The room itself was pristine, as if never used before.

  Six sensed a stillness around the room. There were no air vents on the ceiling, yet it was freezing cold. After removing the covers, he swung both legs to the left side of the bed and placed his bare feet onto the floor. Trying to maintain his posture as he rose, he shook off a feeling of vertigo and shuffled his way toward the sink as he rubbed his chest.

  He tapped the top of the faucet handle and once it was warm enough he splashed water on his face. The warmth of the water felt amazing on his cheeks, giving him a burst of energy. As the water ran down the sink, Six leaned in close to the mirror. The face that stared back at him was a complete mystery, though he was wearing the same white gown as before. After examining himself in the mirror for another minute, he caught the reflection of the large door behind him.

  Six shut off the faucet and headed toward the door. As h
e stood in front of it, he realized there was no handle. He ran his hand over the surface. It was cold to the touch and eerily smooth.

  He suddenly heard muffled noises coming from the window and walked over to it. He pushed the curtain to one side, and to his surprise he saw numerous buildings brightly adorned with billboards. He could hear the bustling sounds of street and air traffic. The intersection below formed a triangular-shape at the far left side of the street. The entire block was surrounded by towering skyrises. Hundreds of cars and buses filled the streets below. Six estimated he was thirty stories up.

  On a sidewalk across the street, Six noticed a man with a green hat paying for something at what appeared to be a newsstand. He couldn’t tell from this height. As the man walked away with his purchase, a woman with a yellow umbrella trailed behind until one of her heels got caught on the pavement, causing her to trip and fall to the ground.

  Six got the feeling of having walked through the streets below many times before. Even though he had no idea what city it was, it felt like home. Watching the activity outside triggered something inside.

  His mind began to layer ‘memories’ that didn’t seem to be actually happening in real time: he saw flashes of ice and snow; he caught a glimpse of a statue made out of gold. His memory then shifted. As if seeing through someone else’s eyes, Six found himself facing a silhouette. From the neck down it was clearly a woman, but the face was blurred out, along with the rest of his surroundings. Just as the face was coming into focus, the image of the female silhouette dissolved along with the rest of the images and he was back in the room.

  Six didn’t understand the meaning behind these images, but the familiarity of it all gave him an incredible sense of joy. Six shrugged it off and continued to stare out the window.

  He looked up and saw a clear blue sky above the enormous buildings. While scratching his chin, something on the back of his hand caught his eye. He rotated his arm to get a better look. A strange marking was tattooed on the lower part of his wrist, resembling what looked like a barcode.

  “Good morning, Six!” A booming voice rang throughout the room. Six jumped and turned around. There was no one else inside the room, and he looked around to see where the voice originated.

  “Who said that?” he asked nervously.

  “Up here,” the voice replied.

  Mounted high on the corner of the ceiling was a spherical object the size of a cantaloupe. A tiny lens was visible at its center, pointed directly at him, with a glowing red light next to it. A camera?

  “How are you feeling today?” the voice continued.

  “Hmm, fine I guess,” Six said.

  “Excellent!”

  The female voice and accent sounded familiar. She appeared to be speaking into an overhead intercom system from another room.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “You could say that,” he said.

  “You must be hungry. We have prepared a meal that you might enjoy. It is next to the bed.”

  Six looked toward the side of the bed and sitting on top of a nightstand was a meal tray. He turned back to the camera. “Where am I?”

  “You are in a facility in New York City.”

  New York? Six turned back to the window behind him. He thought about it for a moment. The name didn’t ring a bell, but the buildings did seem familiar somehow. Maybe New York was where he lived. Things weren’t making any sense. He turned back to the camera above. “And... exactly what facility am I in?”

  “We cannot disclose that information at this time,” she said.

  “Okay,” Six said suspiciously. “Can you at least tell me why I’m here?”

  “You contracted a virus of some sort. We had no choice but to quarantine you.”

  “Jesus.” Six’s voice welled up with emotion.

  “Oh, do not worry,” the voice assured him. “We were able to neutralize the disease before it was able to spread further. You are stable for the moment, but we must run more tests to confirm all traces of the infection have been eliminated.”

  “I don’t remember ever getting sick.” Six rubbed the side of his forehead with his index finger. “I can’t remember much of anything.”

  “A side-effect of the virus,” she said.

  “How long are you planning on keeping me here?”

  “Not to worry. We will not keep you here any longer than necessary.”

  Six frowned at the camera. “Why don’t ya answer my questions?”

  He was starting to lose patience with the vague answers. “I want to speak to whoever's in charge here.”

  “For your own safety and the safety of others, you must remain here until we complete our tests.”

  “No!” he yelled. “I wanna speak to your superiors right now! You can’t just keep me here against my will.”

  “We understand your frustration,” the voice said nonchalantly. “Please be patient with us for just a little while longer. We assure you that all of your questions will be answered soon.” There was a moment of silence. “We will check on you again later. In the meantime, enjoy your meal.” The voice cut off.

  “Wait!” Six said. “Hello?” Silence fell upon the room once again. The conversation was over.

  After calming himself down, Six glanced over at the meal tray by the bed. Walking across the room, he picked it up. The contents were made up of a yellow and white mushy-looking substance and a tall glass of water. He took a whiff. The mush was odorless. “This must be breakfast,” Six said, his tone sarcastic. Whatever this was, he hoped it was edible.

  Six sat on the edge of the bed. With the tray on his lap, he hungrily stuffed the yellow mush into his mouth. The mush was thick and had a bland taste, but after his taste buds had adjusted to the foreign substance, Six detected a hint of egg. He then worked on the white mush. It had a sweet taste, almost like cinnamon. After finishing the last mush, he took a drink of water to wash down his meal. The water was cold and felt refreshing going down his throat. He hadn’t realized how hungry or thirsty he was until now.

  Six placed the empty tray back on top of the nightstand and walked back to the window. He rubbed his chest some more as he gazed out at the city. He began to analyze his current situation. After giving it some more thought, Six did recognize the female voice speaking to him over the intercom as the voice of one of the hazmat-wearing figures in the other room, where he was restrained on an exam table.

  What was her name? he pondered. Ionne? Yes, her name was Ionne. And Kieran was the name of one of the other two that were with her.

  Ionne wasn’t telling him the whole story. She was clearly hiding something.

  Six remembered one of the last things Kieran said in the other room just before they knocked him out. Specimen. The mere speculation of what Kieran meant by that gave Six the chills. He decided to stop all the paranoid thinking and relax. He was certain he would get some real answers soon. Or so he hoped.

  Lost in thought, his eyes wandered over the flashy billboards outside. He noticed another man with a green hat paying for something at the newsstand across the street. A woman with a familiar yellow umbrella then followed the man. She then proceeded to trip and fall on the pavement. Just like the other woman from before. What are the odds these are the same people repeating the exact same actions of just a few minutes ago? Six wondered. Something else in the distance caught his attention. He almost didn’t notice it. He couldn’t quite place what was wrong with what he was seeing at first, but it bugged him nevertheless. He stared at it a bit longer. Searching deep within his mind, the answer became clear. Six’s body froze like a statue, as a chill ran down his spine.

  What the hell?!

  Rubbing his eyes, Six squinted to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Past all the billboards outside, the summits of two twin buildings loomed beyond. A long antenna stood on top of the roof of one of the buildings. Six didn’t know how, but something told him that those buildings weren’t supposed to be there.

  He looked at the bil
lboards again. Some of the letterings were either blurry or didn’t make any grammatical sense. He was dumbfounded.

  What did they put in that mush?

  Deep down Six knew he wasn’t hallucinating and he was certain this wasn’t a dream. His gut feeling told him that what he was seeing was real.

  But how could this be?

  His worst fears had been confirmed. Something was definitely wrong with this place. And he needed to find a way out of here ... fast.

  • •

  4

  ––––––––

  Having never ice-skated in his entire life, Aaron felt like a buffoon stepping onto the crowded ice rink at Rockefeller Center for the first time.

  He was born and raised in Florida; how would he know anything about ice-skating? After planting both skates onto the rink, he felt his legs buckle and held onto the sidewall for dear life. People skated past him with minimal effort.

  “Ha, ha!” A little boy mocked him.

  “Ha, ha, you lil' shit,” Aaron muttered back as the boy skated by. He leaned against the rink wall trying to appear casual. “Well, this is fun.”

  “Come on!” Sarah called out. She twisted her body and skated backwards toward the center of the rink.

  “Show off!” Aaron yelled.

  “Come on, skate toward me!” Sarah said.

  “Nah, I think I’ll just hang out here.”

  “Don’t be such a wimp!” She waved him over. “Come on, you can do it!”

  Aaron caved. He straightened his posture and slowly made his way across the rink. His legs were bent and locked. “Excuse me, coming through,” he said, trying not to ram into the other skaters.

  Sarah was encouraging. “There you go! You got this, babe!”

  Aaron thought she looked adorable in her button-down black winter jacket and matching red headband and scarf. He was feeling more confident. “This ain’t so bad.”

  But as he got closer to Sarah, Aaron lost his balance and slipped, falling hard onto the ice. He lay flat on his back, struggling to get up.