Alone once more, she stared at the food on her tray: mixed vegetables, mashed potatoes, some kind of sandwich, and soup that was a disgusting shade of gray.
It doesn’t make sense.
The baby chose that moment to move.
Lisa was slowly growing accustomed to it. She was also getting used to seeing lumps—a knee or an elbow perhaps—slide across her belly as the baby shifted position.
Sighing, she reached for the fork. It just doesn’t make sense.
What doesn’t? a male voice asked in her head.
Startled, she sucked in a breath.
It doesn’t make sense.
Taelon woke slowly.
It just doesn’t make sense, the female voice murmured in his head. It was her, the woman he had heard just before the butchers had shocked him again.
What doesn’t? he asked, groggy from the drekking drug.
Silence.
He opened his eyes, unsurprised to discover he was lying where he usually did, strapped down on a cold metal table. Chill bumps formed on his exposed skin. Shivers shook his bare body, increasing the pain from the latest wounds the butchers had inflicted.
The room was empty. Had he imagined the voice?
What doesn’t make sense? he asked again. He needed something to take his mind off the pain.
Who said that? the woman responded. Her voice in his head was pleasant. Very expressive, too. He could hear the fear in it.
I did, he replied.
Who are you?
Was it a trick? Had his torturers found a telepath with whom they intended to manipulate him? Were there telepaths on Earth?
The Sectas hadn’t mentioned any, but there must be. He was talking to one.
Or was he speaking telepathically to her and merely hearing her response? A person didn’t have to be telepathic for him to communicate with him or her.
Once more he wondered if this was a ruse of some kind. Earthlings were very well versed in deceit, so it wouldn’t surprise him at all. I am a prisoner here, he replied. He wouldn’t give her his name. If he did, she might tell the butchers so they could use it to force his sister to do their bidding, wherever she was.
If she was.
Once more, grief assailed him at the thought that Amiriska might be dead.
A prisoner? the woman repeated. In the psych ward?
What is a psych ward?
The part of a hospital where they put patients who have mental or psychological issues.
This isn’t a hospital.
A pause ensued. He waited patiently to see if she would respond, if she would say something that would reveal her to be either a lure meant to elicit information or a fellow victim. The information he’d received from the Sectas indicated that Earth dwellers seemed to look for any excuse at all to treat each other badly. So it wouldn’t surprise him if they subjected fellow Earthlings to the same horrific live dissection he experienced.
This isn’t a hospital? the woman asked hesitantly.
No.
I don’t understand.
He frowned. Her confusion seemed unfeigned. You thought you were in a hospital?
Yes. I mean… sort of.
I don’t know how you could have confused this place with a medical facility. It looks nothing like one.
I’ve never seen the outside of it, she said, her words rife with worry. I was unconscious when they brought me here.
Ah.
If this isn’t a hospital, then what is it?
A military base.
A what? There was no mistaking her astonishment.
It’s a military base.
Why the hell would they lock me up in a military base?
I don’t know. Did you express displeasure over some military action they took, or perhaps protest your government’s rule? He wasn’t certain how their system worked.
No. Are you sure it’s military?
Yes. Haven’t you seen the soldiers?
I just woke up a couple of days ago, and they won’t let me leave my room.
Does someone bring you food? They didn’t deign to prepare him meals. They just fed him intravenously… when they wanted to. There had been a long stretch in the early months of his captivity in which they had starved him to see what effect it would have, how quickly it would weaken him, if such would kill him.
Yes.
The next time they do, try to see more of the hallway when they depart. But be subtle. They like to watch, so there may be cameras monitoring you.
Okay.
Minutes passed.
Are you still there? she asked.
Yes.
Why can I hear your voice in my head?
I’m telepathic.
Another pause. Did they know that when they brought you here?
Yes.
The last thing I remember before I woke up here was being in a research institute and participating in a study. They thought I was psychic.
Then that’s why you’re here.
What kind of military base is this? she asked with a great deal of frustration.
One in which they perform what I believe are referred to as highly classified experiments and research.
Oh shit.
Fear swept through Lisa as she peered down at her belly.
A base in which they performed highly classified experiments and research? If what the man said was true…
What the hell had they done to her?
How long have you been here? she asked.
I don’t know. Sometimes I think I sleep longer than is natural.
They said I’ve been in a coma for seven months.
A coma?
She frowned. Did he not know what a coma was? A deep sleep from which I couldn’t wake.
Ah. If I had to guess, I would say I’ve been here two or three years, he responded wearily.
Years? Shit.
I must go, the man said. His voice in her head was deep and carried both caution and sympathy. The butchers have returned.
Butchers? What butchers? she asked but received no response. Hello?
Only silence.
Who was he? She had been so surprised to hear someone else’s voice in her head and so disturbed by his revelations that she had forgotten to ask. But he seemed to be a prisoner here as well.
Was the military really abducting citizens and performing experiments on them against their will? She’d read about some of the unethical experiments they’d performed in the past, exposing their own soldiers to mustard gas to study the effects, blanketing cities like San Francisco with microbes to test germ warfare, testing Agent Orange on citizens, and more. But in the Information Age, she didn’t know how the hell they would keep illegal experimentation on citizens a secret. And considering society’s extremely litigious nature, she wouldn’t think higher-ranked members of the military or government would want to take that kind of financial risk. They might not care about the people, but they did care about money, legal hassles, and weakening the chances of advancing their careers or—in the case of politicians—getting reelected. So she had assumed they no longer did that sort of thing.
The baby in her belly shifted.
Lisa drew a hand across the beach-ball-sized mound.
Could she trust the voice in her head—the mystery man who claimed to be a prisoner here, too?
He clearly hadn’t been lying when he had said he was telepathic. And hadn’t Dr. Aguera said the Anomalous Cognition Research Institute’s parent company was funded by the government when he’d checked out their website?
She eyed the locked door.
Lisa wished she could get her hands on a phone. She’d told Nurse Ninny that she wanted to contact Brad’s parents, but she actually wanted to call Dr. Aguera.
She began to pace. As unobtrusively as possible, she let her gaze travel the room as if she were bored and not really seeing it.
They like to watch, he’d warned.
Were there cameras?
She didn’t see any
, but surveillance cameras could be tiny now. For all she knew, one could be attached to the television that was anchored to the ceiling. Lisa wasn’t allowed to watch the news or any satellite channels. Her captors continued to play the suicide watch card and only let her view movies chosen from a digital library they carefully tailored to her particular psychological needs.
A cramp ripped through her belly. Crying out, she reached out and braced a hand on the bed. Her fingers fisted the covers as she breathed deeply, trying to ride out the pain.
Braxton-Hicks contractions, my ass, she thought.
One of her fellow workers at the bookstore had gotten pregnant a couple of years ago. She had been very vocal about the physical changes taking place in her body, sometimes sharing things Lisa really wished she hadn’t. And when Charlotte had mentioned having Braxton-Hicks contractions, she had described them as being similar to mild menstrual cramps.
Mild menstrual cramps didn’t damn near make your legs buckle.
And Lisa didn’t remember the other woman mentioning anything about the baby moving during the Braxton-Hicks contractions. The baby in Lisa’s belly always became a lot more active during the severe cramps, almost as if the baby were in pain, too. Or maybe it just didn’t like the way her tummy clenched around it and was trying to find some extra elbow room.
Lisa didn’t know.
When the pain continued, she climbed into bed and curled up on her side. She slipped one hand beneath her pillow and gripped the soft material. The other hand she slid over her tummy in slow circles, hoping to soothe the baby.
They wouldn’t even tell her if it was a girl or a boy, wouldn’t let her see it on an ultrasound.
An hour later, the pain eased enough for her to relax. The baby calmed. Fatigue pummeled Lisa. Sighing sleepily, she reached down and pulled the covers up to her chin.
Then darkness claimed her.
Chapter Three
“Lisa,” a voice hissed.
Her eyes flew open. The room was dark except for the faint blue light spawned by the digital clock on the DVD player attached to the television.
“Lisa,” the voice hissed again.
Gasping, she rolled onto her back.
A dark figure loomed beside the bed.
Fear striking, she scooted away from it. “Who’s there?”
“Careful,” a male voice said as the figure leaned over her and grabbed her hip to prevent her from falling out of bed.
Lisa frowned. She knew that voice. It wasn’t the one she’d heard in her head. It was… “Brad?”
“Yeah. Sit tight for a minute.”
What the hell?
He moved away. A moment later, the bathroom light came on.
Lisa sat up and squinted against the sudden illumination. Flinging a hand up to shade her eyes, she stared in astonishment as Brad—alive and well—leaned into the bathroom and pulled the door almost closed to dim the light.
When he turned to face her, she shook her head. “Is this a dream?”
Closing the distance between them, he glanced down at her belly. “I wish it were. I wish it were all just some horrible nightmare from which we’d both wake up.” He met her gaze. “But it isn’t.”
“They said you were dead.”
“They lied.”
“They said we were married and that you died in an accident.”
“They lied a lot.” He glanced at his watch. “We don’t have much time. Tell me what you know.”
Lisa shook her head. “I passed out at the Anomalous Cognition Research Institute and woke up here two days ago with this.” She cupped her big belly in her hands.
His gaze dropped to it. He swallowed hard. And something… terrifying entered his blue eyes. Dread. Fear. She wasn’t sure.
“They told me we were married,” she continued. “That this is your baby. That you died in a car accident, and afterward I tried to commit suicide.”
His gaze rose to meet hers. He shook his head and continued to shake it as she swiftly told him the rest.
“They told me I’m in the psych ward of a hospital. They won’t let me leave the room. They won’t let me have a phone. They said they called your parents to let them know I had awoken from the coma, but they’re out of the country and haven’t called back.”
He sank down on the side of the bed. The covert glances he kept sliding her stomach set alarm bells to ringing inside her. He brushed a hand over her hair, then pulled her into a hug. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
Lisa wrapped her arms around him and held on tight. Finally, someone familiar. Finally, someone she trusted. “Sorry about what? What’s happening, Brad? I don’t understand any of this.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you,” he uttered hoarsely, his hold almost painful. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find you before…”
“Before what?”
Relaxing his grip, he leaned back. The fact that he very carefully avoided touching her belly when he did unnerved her further.
“Brad?”
“After I regained consciousness, they told me you had died of an aneurism. They said when you passed out, I caught you but lost my footing, fell, and hit my head on the table. But I knew that was bullshit. They must have put something in the water bottles. They couldn’t have known which one I’d give you, so they drugged them all. Both bottles spilled, so I think they thought I drank enough not to remember what happened, but I do. I remember I was dizzy when I rose and started for the door to get help. I did spin around and try to catch you when you collapsed. And I did hit my head on something. But I was dizzy before that. Your dying of an aneurism wouldn’t explain that.”
“So they drugged us?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“So they could bring you here without you putting up a fight or causing a scene.”
“Did they bring you, too?”
“No. It’s taken me months to work my way into a position that would allow me to do some digging. I knew something was very wrong and didn’t want them to get suspicious. So I stayed on as a research assistant and started making casual comments I knew would catch their attention and make them trust me.”
“Like what?”
“Like… several times I expressed my frustration when working with wannabe psychics who clearly lacked your gift and said what a shame it was that you’d died because we could’ve learned a lot studying you.”
“That’s kind of creepy. You made it sound like I was a lab rat or something.”
“Which is exactly how they thought of you. Another time, I asked what had happened to your body after you died. I knew you had no living relatives, so… I let the rest hang. They told me you were cremated. And I said something along the lines of that’s too bad. We could’ve learned even more by dissecting you, maybe even discovered the key to unlocking those gifts in others.”
She stared at him in horror.
“I know. I didn’t really think that, Lisa. But I knew they’d like it. And they did. They lapped it up. It’s how I managed to score a transfer here. But this place has security like you wouldn’t believe, and I had no idea what to look for or where to find it. I had to enlist the aid of an ex-girlfriend who is determined to become the next Woodward and Bernstein. Her new boyfriend, too. He’s a total computer nerd who just about orgasmed when I told him I wanted him to hack into heavily encrypted files. They’re both totally high on the idea of becoming the biggest whistle-blowers in history. They can’t wait to expose this place for what it is.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a highly classified military installation.”
So the voice in her head had been right. “What kind of military installation?”
He glanced at her belly and back. “The kind that performs experiments.”
Nausea arose. Lisa swallowed hard. “This isn’t your baby, is it?”
His features grim, he shook his head.
The backs of her eyes began to burn. “Then whose is it? Are th
ey…? Is it…?” She shook her head helplessly. “Is it a clone or something? Are they trying to clone people?” Hadn’t such experiments been banned?
His throat worked in a swallow. “No.”
“Are they… genetically manipulating fetuses, trying to engineer some kind of supersoldier or something?”
“Or something,” he murmured.
“Brad.”
“I’m sorry. I was so busy trying to find a way to get to you that I didn’t really think about how I was going to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” she asked, ready to scream in frustration.
Leaning forward, he took her hands in his. “This place studies paranormal beings.”
She frowned. “You mean psychics?”
“No. I mean the kind you usually only find in fiction. They train men—like those Special Forces guys you see in movies—then send them out to hunt… things… beings… they lock up and keep restrained here so they can submit them to all manner of torture. They call it research, but it’s barbaric, Lisa. I didn’t know that kind of depravity existed anywhere outside of horror films.”
She heard little after the word things. “What kind of things?”
“I don’t know all of it. But I do know there was a… They had a vampire, Lisa. An honest-to-goodness, as-real-as-you-and-me vampire.”
Disbelief shot through her. “A vampire? Vampires don’t exist outside of fiction and folklore.”
“Well that fiction and folklore is at least partially based on reality, because they do exist.”
She stared at him, doubt assailing her. Vampires? Really? Was Brad insane? Had he lost it and… Was he the one who had drugged her? Was he some lunatic who had imprisoned her in his basement or something and gotten his sister to pose as a nurse? Because vampires didn’t exist.
“I know,” he said, holding on when she tried to pull her hands away. “It sounds crazy. I didn’t believe it either. I still wouldn’t if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. They had one. This big, scary fucking guy who’s damn near seven feet tall brought it in.”
“What scary guy?”
The Lasaran (Aldebarian Alliance Book 1) Page 5
