by Pam Jernigan
She glanced back at the doctor, who was pointing out other features of his lab, oblivious to her distraction. “This is actually a two-part lab. This is my general work area, but there’s another, more sterile space.” He indicated the far wall, and Karen realized that it only spanned about half the room. No doors, though, so ‘more sterile’ really could not be much better.
“Over here, we have a gas chromatograph.” He strode towards the half wall and the entrance to the second lab, naming various pieces of equipment. For a moment, she hung back, and drifted a little closer to the cage. Curious.
Sweatshirt boy was still watching her. “You… okay?”
His voice was very soft, but still, she didn’t want the doctor noticing. She gave him a discreet thumbs-up, then waved a dismissive hand at him, frowning a little and pointing towards Borsa.
Sweatshirt boy looked where she pointed, then met her eyes again and nodded very slightly. He turned away, all expression draining back out of his face.
“You mustn’t get too close,” Borsa said, walking back across the lab floor.
She turned more fully towards the cage. “I’m not.” They all looked the same, now. “Just trying to figure out which one it was that captured me. It was such a traumatic experience, I don’t remember much. I’m not even sure it’s here.”
A flash of annoyance crossed his face. “They should all be here. I had hoped… well, the light’s not very good, and often a good night’s sleep will help the memory,” he said, crossing his arms in front of him. He didn’t even glance at the pen. “Come, let me show you my other lab.”
She allowed herself to be drawn further into the room. The place was piled high with clutter, which was pretty impressive in a world of limited resources. One of the tables was mostly clear; Borsa said it was for his post-mortem explorations. Really would have preferred not to know that. They had to detour around a sink jutting out from the center wall, almost large enough be a tub.
The back wall, opposite to the cage, featured a desk and some filing cabinets. Those looked interesting, but Borsa was insisting on showing her the “wet lab” as he called it; the other half of the room, on the far side of the half-wall. These tables were covered by oddly shaped things that reminded her of Jake’s lab at the university. Test tubes and beakers, with loops of tubing here and there. Jake would be right at home here. He’d probably get along great with Borsa. They could both talk for hours without really hearing a word the other one said.
There was another sink, probably on the wall directly backing up to the first one. At least, that’s how she’d do the plumbing. Borsa was chattering non-stop as they walked, obviously very proud of his set-up.
“It’s all very impressive, doctor,” she finally said, a little loudly, to be sure to be heard. “But I’m afraid my ankle is giving me some problems.”
He looked miffed to be interrupted, but his face smoothed out almost immediately. “Of course. How thoughtless of me.”
Better than being Mindless. Or maybe not. What did it mean that sweatshirt boy had been more concerned about her well-being than the human? “That’s okay,” she said in a deliberately casual tone. “It’s really been fascinating.”
She glanced at the cage again as they drew closer to it in order to exit. He was still there, his eyes flicking towards her briefly before looking away again. Why was he so different from all the rest?
“We must move along,” the doctor declared. He frowned towards the cage. “The drawback of having the pen open to the outside is that the temperature isn’t very well controlled. They had it more boarded-up for winter.” He led her back down the corridor they’d just left. “However, live specimens require some food and water, and the eventual result of that... well, having the cage wide open like this eliminates any dark corners.”
She nodded and allowed herself to be ushered away with only one backwards glance. To catch a glimpse of sweatshirt boy, watching her go.
#
He wished he knew her name. Even more than he wanted to know his own, he wanted to know hers. She’d looked better than she had earlier, inside and out. Without the fear amplifying them, her emotions weren’t nearly as intense, but he could feel them, still. The others had caught the whiff of fear, but it had soon faded and with it, their interest. Her emotions were subtle, and she had so many of them. They were beautiful.
She had seen him, paid attention. Had answered his question, even, which he really hadn’t expected.
She had lied. Pretended she didn’t know who he was. But that was okay. He had felt her dislike - distrust? - of the other man, the one in the white lab coat. She had been trying to keep their communication secret. If that was what she wanted, he would do it, even if it meant looking away from her.
After all, he could still sense her energy. Her emotions flashed and shifted, some softer, some sharper, and he could easily bask in them all day. He relaxed and enjoyed the brief experience he had.
It reminded him of… something he couldn’t quite grasp. The images, memories… they were a bit clearer now. More focused. He rummaged around, searching for one in particular. There was one he really wanted.
Just after the girl and the doctor had left, it had finally come to him.
His name was Leo.
#
Borsa escorted her to the end of his entrance hallway, then paused. He moved closer to her to ask softly, “Do you have any questions, my dear?”
Karen smiled tightly, crossing her arms in front of her. “No, not really.” None that she wanted to share, anyway. She backed up a step. Ouch. She needed to give her ankle a break. “Thanks for the tour. It was very interesting.”
He beamed. “Well, if you have more questions later, just ask anyone.”
“That’s very accommodating of you all,” Karen said politely. “Seeing as I’m an uninvited guest. But I won’t take up any more of your valuable time.” Keeping her smile firmly in place, she retreated further before turning to find her room. Luckily it wasn’t far, and she even recognized it, saving herself the indignity of flagging down a random person and asking for directions.
As soon as the door closed behind her, she let out a sigh, and allowed herself to relax, half-falling onto the bed.
She settled herself against the headboard, her mind returning to the puzzle of sweatshirt boy. There was no doubt. She’d communicated with that boy. Man, she supposed, judging by his size, but… they all seemed a little childlike. When they weren’t attacking, anyway. But she had definitely had a verbal conversation with him on the road, and a mostly non-verbal one just a few minutes ago. The non-verbal one was almost more impressive; he’d caught her meaning just from a few hand gestures. And had cooperated. If he were truly mindless, he wouldn’t have been able to do any of that. So… what was he?
It didn’t matter. She sat up and began to carefully remove her boots and ankle brace. It was none of her business. Doctor Borsa, on the other hand… She would be quite interested to get a look at some of his files. She didn’t exactly know what she was looking for, but it still might be worth the attempt.
Well, maybe she’d just go do that. Much later. When most everyone was asleep. They wouldn’t be happy if they caught her, but at this point she thought she could claim innocent curiosity, coupled with insomnia, and probably get away with it.
Any activity where she had to pre-plan her alibi was bound to be a bad idea. Mom would tell her it was too risky. Jake would tell her not to bother because she wouldn’t even know what she was looking at. Katrina would ask to tag along. And then Karen would have to go all responsible and give a lecture on caution and set a good example. You know what? Katrina isn’t here.
None of them were. They must believe her to be dead already. Which sucked, but she couldn’t fix that. Being dead, though, was strangely freeing. From their point of view, it really didn’t matter what happened to Karen; it wouldn’t make anything worse, at any rate. So a lot more things could happen. Nobody
else would pay the price.
Right, then. She set her phone alarm. There was some potentially valuable research going on, and she wanted to find out more. Later, when she wasn’t feeling so incredibly tired. She’d gotten up pretty early this morning, excited about the library salvage.
Worst idea ever; Ramesh and Brian were probably both dead. She indulged in a brief bout of crying, then settled down on the cot, sniffling mightily to try to clear her sinuses. Katrina was safe. That was the most important thing. She carefully turned on one side, trying to find the least painful position, hoping for a few hours of healing sleep before she charged–or limped–into trouble.
#
It was past midnight when her phone buzzed to wake her. There wasn’t any phone service anymore, of course, but some of the apps still worked, and solar USB chargers were a wonderful thing. Her entire music collection was on that little device. She set it to play some tunes to help clear away the sleepiness. She had to keep the volume low, which diminished the effect, but after a few minutes she was feeling more alert.
Time for another dose of pain meds. She put her ankle brace and boots back on and stretched. After some consideration, she grabbed her knapsack and slung it cross-body in front of her. All sorts of useful items in there. She eased the door open and peeked out into the hallway. No one in sight. Good. She limped quietly down the hall, trying to project the confidence of someone who had every right to be there.
A few turns later, her nose informed her that she was approaching the lab. She slowed as she went around the last corner, watching the Mindless, arms crossed in front of herself. They were still all locked up. There was no way they could harm her. Nothing to be afraid of. They stirred a bit at her appearance but were much less active. A few were on the ground - did they sleep? Supposedly they didn’t. Then again, she’d been told they didn’t talk either.
Sweatshirt boy was in the near corner, watching her. She moved closer, studying him. In the dimmer light, he looked almost normal. He’d never be handsome, but… he wasn’t ugly. Not that it made a difference because it didn’t.
As she approached, he spoke again. “You… okay?” He examined her anxiously.
“Yeah,” she replied, and his expression cleared. “My ankle still hurts,” she said quietly, not quite believing that this was happening. “But it’s better than it was.”
He glanced downwards for a moment, then looked back up. His face serious, holding her gaze, he pointed to himself and said “L… Leo.”
Holy crap, he was introducing himself.
He pointed at her, a question clear on his face.
Well, what the heck. She waved and said, “Hi. I’m Karen.”
He didn’t quite smile, but still managed to seem happy. “Kar… en” he repeated softly.
“Um, yeah. Okay, actually I came here to… look around the lab.” She gestured at the room full of tables and equipment. “So… I’m just going to go do that.” She turned away slowly, keeping a wary eye on him, but he merely watched. “Yeah, okay.”
She ventured further into the lab than she had earlier. There was some emergency lighting, in a soothing red, but she pulled out her used-to-be-a-phone and activated the flashlight app. “Okay,” she muttered to herself. “If I were a mad scientist where would I put all my secrets?” She held up the device and panned the light around the room. “A filing cabinet, that seems like a good start.” Or it would be if there weren’t four of them. “This could take a while.”
#
Leo leaned against the bars and watched Karen head towards the far end of the room, a small black object in her hand somehow emitting light. In the darkened lab it was easier to see the emotional energy she was producing.
She opened one drawer, peering inside, poking at the contents. Then she closed that and looked into another. And another; this one was shut more forcefully. “You know, Leo,” she commented, startling him, “Borsa might or might not be a brilliant biochemist, but he is definitely sub-par when it comes to organizing his files. No labels on any of the cabinets.” She opened the first drawer again. “Right, barely anything written on the file folders. How does this guy ever find anything?”
She pulled folders out in no order that he could discern and started flipping through them, juggling the papers while holding the light. “Well, that’s awkward,” she said, softer now, regarding the black thing in her hand. “How about we try this without the flashlight.” She glanced over her shoulder, focusing past him to the outside. “Yeah, let’s not get caught.” She turned off the light, setting the small box down on a nearby table.
Get caught? That seemed significant. He turned to survey the courtyard; it was largely deserted although he could make out a pale blob moving in the general darkness. Was he sensing or seeing? He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t close enough for him to tell.
“Dr. Borsa has fairly awful handwriting. Let’s see, we’ve got…chemical diagrams, charts and graphs full of numbers and abbreviations, and lots of scribbled notes. Okay, this looks interesting.” She pulled a file completely out of the drawer and laid it flat on a nearby table, then grabbed for the light. She didn’t turn it on; just held it above the file. A bright flash startled him, and the others stirred briefly.
Karen smiled in his direction. “Sorry. I’m just taking pictures, for Jake,” she explained. It made no sense, but that didn’t matter. She looked past him again for a long moment, then returned to her work.
Why was she here, in the middle of the night? Most of the humans were either gone, or too far away to detect. There had been some remaining, but only a few, wandering on the outskirts of the camp. Guards. When Karen looked in that direction, there was a spark of fear. She didn’t want them to see. She wasn’t supposed to be here.
She wasn’t supposed to talk to him, either. None of the other humans had. The short man who seemed to be in charge didn’t talk to them. He barely looked at them. He gave off very little energy, in a way that was vaguely disturbing. No fear in that one, and only brief flashes of anger directed at other humans. Not that Karen was talking to him now, not really, but at least she acknowledged his presence. It was nice.
“Oh, yuck, he’s got autopsy records,” Karen said softly, peering into a folder. “This one was a young adult…” her voice quality changed subtly as she read, “Killed by soldiers when attempting to enter the city… Seems to have unusual dopamine levels… Brain chemistry difficult to assess.” She snorted softly. “Apparently the bullets complicate the analysis.”
She took a few more pictures, then packed up the papers and selected something else from the drawers. “No subjects today. The creatures are keeping further away from the city.”
A few moments later, Karen turned and grinned at him briefly. “Aw, it’s tough being a mad scientist. Somebody called the doc a whack-job,” she said, pitching her voice to carry, sounding like herself again. He looked outside. Had she been loud enough for anyone to hear her? No one appeared on the other side of the bars.
“Cut open the skull… extract samples… test blood for traces… Eww. These pictures are disturbing.” She flipped a few pages, traces of anger showing. “Fresh kill today, was able to test new formula. Results mixed but encouraging. Need to test on live subjects!” She flipped another page. “Oh, God, he found a live subject.”
She put the file down for a second and stared upward, not doing anything besides breathing that he could tell. The anger strengthened but was mixed with something he couldn’t name. She squared her shoulders and resumed reading. “Had to destroy specimen today. Subject’s cognitive function somewhat improved, but… wait, emotions out of control?” She peered closer. “That’s weird. Although I guess it’s an improvement. Hmm… very aggressive. Experiment short-lived. Need to modify…” She took more pictures and closed the file, stuffing it back into the drawer.
Another drawer. Another file slapped onto the work bench. “Lab attacked by protesters. Anti-science bigots. Animal cruelty is a minor
consideration… blah, blah, blah…” she flipped the page. “Entire batch of formula destroyed. Weeks’ worth of work, gone. I would prefer to test it on them.”
She shook her head. “Yeah, whack-job sounds about right. I can see why he left the city.” She turned a few more pages before finding something else to take pictures of. “I mean, I get that zombie rights is kind of a stupid idea, and yeah, things might not have gotten to be this bad if we’d been more ruthless, but they didn’t know what they were dealing with.” She glanced at him. “Sometimes you’ve gotta give the benefit of the doubt.”
She put the file away and started on another one, her running commentary reduced to muttering. He couldn’t make out many words, but that was okay. She was looking for something. And not finding it, judging by the weak orange aura of frustration she was putting out. He wished he could help.
Leo didn’t know how long he stood, content just to be near her. It was soothing, watching her pull things out of drawers and put them back. She eventually stopped, stretching and rolling her neck, groaning softly.
She stretched her back and twisted around, jumping a little when she saw him. As if she’d forgotten he was there. After a pause, the trace of fear subsided, and she stepped a little closer to the cage, limping slightly, making eye contact in the dim reddish light. “So what’s your story?” she asked.
He had no answer.
“Yeah, I figured that’s what you’d say.”
Stray energy tickled the edge of his consciousness and grew stronger. He looked out towards the open space. The pale blob was brightening, coming closer. He turned back to her, distressed. “Guard.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Oh, crap.” Karen’s pulse accelerated as she quickly turned off the flashlight. “Outside?”
