Unexpected Conspiracy: The Eternal Experimental Effects Series (The RAMBA Chronicles: The Eternal Experimental Effects Book 1)

by Erin Rickman

  The walkie talkie crackled. “I told you, remarkable…” Van Wick paused collecting his thoughts staring at me, I crawled to the walkie talkie. “Telepathic.”

  “What the fuck was that?” I whimpered, the blast had knocked the wind out of me.

  My eyes went straight to my mother, she stared at me, not sure what had happened either. The pain from her torture was laced in every single one of her features.

  Van Wick didn’t answer my question, instead I was met with the cold chill of his words as he turned to my mother. “We can’t let her go, she’s seen too much, kill her.”

  Everything moved in slow motion, I crawled, trying to heave myself up, eventually I staggered to my feet and ran across the lab to the window. I stared at my mother, her eyes wide, terrified. Lawrence pulled back her head, exposing her throat. I watched as her eyes closed, she drew in a deep breath. I turned away just before the sudden swipe, her throat was slit.

  “No,” I screamed as my mother coughed and spluttered, I had to see her. I banged more, staring at her. “Mum, I’m sorry. I am so sorry. Don’t go. I love you.” I watched as the light left her eyes. I wanted to scream, to shout, but I could no longer form a coherent sentence.

  Sobs racked my body and I lost my footing, my vision becoming blurred, my heart pounding, my ears ringing. I was screaming but I couldn’t hear it. I was numb. At that the door to my side of the lab was opened. All I felt was rage, pure and utter rage so I charged at Lawrence. In one swift movement he grabbed me into a restraint and I felt a sharp pain hit my arm.

  I recognised the next feeling, the dizziness, the relaxation. I was sedated, the last voice I heard before my vision went dark was Van Wick.

  “Get her in the cell, once you’ve done that clean up your mess.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  October 12th 2024

  My eyes scanned the schoolyard, falling on a woman. Her curls fell down to her hips, her brown eyes twinkled, there was not a trace of wrinkles. Her fitted blue suit hugged her slim figure. Her lips were plump and turned up into a grin.

  “Mummy!” My four-year-old self cried in delight as I ran into her arms, tripping at the last minute.

  Her arms swung out in an attempt to grab me; she caught me but not before I grazed the top of my knee slightly. Regardless of her efforts, a small whimper left my lips, and a tear rolled down my cheek.

  “Oh Blaire Bear,” she cooed, wiping away the tear. “It’s ok, c’mon, you’re a big brave girl, aren’t you?”

  I nodded vigorously. “Just like you!”

  She chuckled, adoration in her voice, “you’re exactly like me, you’ll do such great things, Blaire.”

  I looked up to her, grinning wide and she smiled back. She took my hand in hers, and we walked across the playground, her heels tapping.

  “Did you have a good first day at school?”

  I told her all about the day I’d had, the friends I’d made, and how I was so excited to do it all over again tomorrow. She was relieved. I was a clingy child, so it was probably helpful to have a break. We stood at the traffic lights, and I swung my book-bag back and forth. As we crossed the road, I skipped happily. Just as we made it to the other side, I stood on her foot, and a small gasp left her mouth.

  “Sorry mummy. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Her looked changed to one of anger. “Well you did,” she snapped. “This isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last time.”

  “What?” I whimpered, tears brewing in my eyes—the idea of hurting someone I loved so much crushed me.

  “This was your fault. You killed me.”

  I woke up to the sound of my blood-curdling screams. I shot up, my head fuzzy, my body drowsy. I felt sick. I looked around the room, only to realise I was back in the pod. I laid back down, not ready to move yet, my breathing rapid. Slowly I relived what had happened, the drop of my mother’s finger, the burst of energy, the knife making a quick slit of her throat. I was exhausted by grief. I sat up slowly on the bed, leaning against the back wall of the pod, I pulled my knees to my chest and relaxed my forehead on them. My body shook, the graphic images of my mother’s brutal murder replayed over and over. I sobbed until my eyes stung.

  I had killed her, my curiosity and the overwhelming need to find my friends while impressing the man I held strong feelings for, killed her. She was dead, and I may well have slit her throat myself. Then came the dread; if they had my mother then surely Van Wick would know about my father and my brother. I wondered if they knew about my mother—was my father sitting at home waiting for his wife to return? How would he react knowing his wife was dead due to the actions of the apple of his eye?

  Oh dad, I'm so sorry.

  At that, I stood. I screamed. I rushed over to the chair, holding it in my hands before launching it across my pod. I flung the chair at the door where it smacked with a thud before it clattered to the floor. My breathing raced. I turned to face the glass; thankfully, the boys were asleep. Good. I stalked to the right-hand side of the pod, and just as I thought I was calming down, I acted without conscious thought. I raised my fist, propelling it into the wall with force, I repeated the action, over and over until blood smeared on the white wall. Even though the adrenaline stopped the pain at first, I recognised the throb in my knuckles, but I didn’t stop. I deserved it, the pain, all of it. I had murdered my mother.

  None of this made sense. How did she get here? What was the purpose of bringing her here just to get to me? Van Wick was a psychopath; I wouldn’t put it past him.

  Another scream tore from my lips, and I dropped to my knees. No tears came—they couldn’t. All I could feel was overwhelming anger, sadness and despair. I looked down to my hand and registered the splits on my knuckles. My hand was shaking as I cradled it, a throbbing pain stretching from the tip of my fingers to my elbow. This physical pain gave relief to my mental distress, and I would do anything to escape the latter. I pushed myself up against the wall and crossed my legs. The coldness of the wall seeped through the back of my t-shirt. I couldn’t stop the thoughts rushing through my head.

  ‘I feel like death…’

  Having nothing left to throw or destroy, I attempted to calm down. I slowed my breathing, concentrating on the rise and fall of my chest. My head was pounding; it felt heavy. My body was weak after the trauma of the last few hours, the sedation and the outburst I was just calming from didn't help either. Regardless of how I felt physically, I was emotionally numb; I couldn’t bring myself to think any further about my mother. At the same time, it was all I could think about. The look of horror on her face when she knew what was about to happen was something I would never forget. I would carry that dark memory with me until the day I died, which could be soon.

  ‘I wonder if my friends are ok…’

  Although I could see Atlas and Kenji, my mind wandered to Hector, who last time I saw him, looked as bad as I felt. My heart ached at seeing a friend look so… lifeless. To top it off, I remembered that I never replied to Andy. I was now certain she would think that I was ignoring her. I found comfort in knowing that her friendship with Jai was just as strong as hers and mine. At least she could ease his hurt when I couldn’t.

  ‘I wonder if my family is okay, Mum, Dad, Macey…’

  I paused, who the hell was Macey? I sat, thinking hard to put a face to the name. Did I even know a Macey? Was my grief driving me to insanity? Then I realised I recognised the voice, but not as my own.

  I sat forward in shock. “Telepathic,” I whispered, repeating the words Van Wick had said to me hours before.

  Then it hit me—Hector. The voice was Hector’s, and Macey was his sister. Although I had never met her, Hector would speak fondly of her after a few drinks. I shook my head. It was my grief. Van Wick was crazy, and I couldn’t believe anything he said. However, I felt what happened to me in the lab—I felt it. Desperately, I tried to reach out.

  ‘Hector, can you hear me? It’s Blaire.’

  I sat patiently waiting for
a response, but couldn’t tell if he had heard me. Maybe I could only read thoughts? I sat, concentrating hard, for something, anything. I couldn’t hear him. I tried again, but to no avail. I didn’t receive a response. I wasn’t sure why I wasn’t having any success, but moments ago I did it without even realising. Maybe I was crazy. I knew it was ridiculous, maybe even ludicrous, but after the constant losses I need something to fall in my favour. I was willing to cling to this. Though, why couldn’t I do it when I tried? If 'telepathy' was real at least. I wasn’t expecting to master the ability in a few short hours, but I felt like after the constant losses as of recent I could really do with a well-needed win.

  ✽✽✽

  I wasn’t sure how long I was trying to reach Hector, but I decided it was time to have a break. Maybe I was too tired? Or maybe I was crazy? Heck, all of this was crazy. I glanced over to Kenji’s pod and, upon inspection, I noticed that a light layer of ice covered the inside of his pod’s glass. He was sitting on his bed. This meant he was a few feet away and whatever was happening to him was getting stronger, unlike earlier when he had sat near the glass. I had a eureka moment; Kenji was not going through another stage. He, like myself, had some form of ability. What it was though I wasn’t sure, all I had gathered from watching him over the last twenty-four hours was that things around him got extremely hot or extremely cold.

  My heart ached for Kenji; he must have gone through something as horrific as I had. I wondered what had happened to him; he was a tough nut to crack, maybe his temper got the better of him? Oh my God. Did Van Wick use his parents for leverage too? The idea that he may have done that to my friend was unbearable. However, Van Wick had proven to know how to push buttons.

  Then, I glanced over to Atlas’ pod. The dark-haired boy was sprawled out across the floor on his back like a starfish. Evidently, the bed was too comfy for him. It was as if he knew I was looking and he rolled onto his side, staring at me. A small smile played on his lips, his face still a beaten mess. I couldn’t bring myself to grin back. Instead, I waved half-heartedly. He scooted over to the glass, his eyes full of concern. I watched as he glanced above me, taking in the dried blood on the wall from my earlier fit.

  He banged on the glass, raising his arms in the air as if to say ‘what the hell happened?’. I then noticed that his veins had settled. It was a matter of time before he too was to go through a horrific experience. I had so much to tell him—he would think I was crazy; after all, he couldn’t see Kenji for proof. Though, was anything really that crazy anymore? I felt like I was losing a sense of reality.

  I tried to project my thoughts to him, to explain what had happened, my eyes fixated on him. Moments later, he banged again thinking I was ignoring him. It clearly was not working, and my lack of physical communication back was riling him. I simply waved him off. How do you gesture that Van Wick and his goon killed your mother and you were now telepathic? It sounded ridiculous just thinking about it. My thoughts jumped back to Hector, I then started to wonder—could he hear me or did he simply shut me out at the fear of going crazy?

  I stood up in my pod, staring at Atlas, who copied my action. I pointed to the cell next to me. I followed this with a thumbs up to ask if Hector was okay. Atlas just shrugged at me, before shaking his head with worry in his eyes. I then mouthed, ‘What is he doing?’. Atlas didn’t understand me at first and squinted his eyes, after about three attempts of me repeating the question he finally understood.

  He held his index finger up, gesturing for me to wait. I watched as Atlas curled into a ball on the floor, shaking rapidly. He lifted his head and pointed to Hector, repeating the action. It took me a second to realise he was mimicking Hector. At that, I tried once more to propel my thoughts.

  ‘Hector, it’s Blaire. Please respond to me.’

  I watched as Atlas paused for a minute, his eyes on Hector. Then he started to move his head, turning slightly, as if to say Hector was now investigating the pod by looking around. I realised Hector could hear me. He was trying to figure out how and why he could detect me. A wide smile formed across my face. Atlas stood, finished with his mimicry. He pointed to Hector in the pod next to me and then placed his index finger to his temple, twirling it around and crossing his eyes. He thought Hector was going crazy.

  ‘Hector, it’s Blaire. I promise you; you are not going crazy. I don’t know what Van Wick injected us with, but whatever it is I can now hear your thoughts. I need to know if you can hear me.’

  I anxiously waited, if there were a clock I would have heard it ticking with every second that passed. Hector had to respond to me; I had to make sure he was okay. I was worried about the boy; he literally looked like he was on death’s door.

  ‘That’s because I am.’ The voice was faint, but instantly I knew it wasn’t mine. My head snapped towards the wall of Hector’s pod. ‘Blaire, is that really you?’

  I jumped up and down with pure excitement. Hector could hear me. I had never been so excited to know someone could listen to my thoughts. In fact, I had never been excited about someone hearing my thoughts, period. Up until recently, I would have thrown back any scientific facts to debunk psychics and telepathy.

  ‘Yes, it’s me! Hector, my god, am I glad to hear your voice.’

  I was utterly relieved, maybe this moment felt like such a high because of the low I had endeavoured, but I would take it. My eyes flicked back to Atlas, who was manically staring between Hector and I. To him we must have looked crazy. After all, I was facing the wall and intensely staring at it, and I imagined Hector was doing something similar.

  At that, I filled Hector in on everything he had missed: Atlas’ unexpected conspiracy; my break up with Jai; our kidnapping; the testing; my mother’s death; everything. Hector remained quiet, though I could sense the sympathy radiating from his thoughts.

  ‘Stop it, don’t pity me. You are curled up on the floor, suffering.’

  ‘I honestly think I’m going to die, Blaire.’ He was scared, terrified even. I thought I could feel his pain, maybe I could, and it was awful.

  I shook my head, then realised he couldn’t see it. ‘No you’re not. You can’t think like that.’

  ‘Blaire, I’ve watched Atlas’ and Kenji. Atlas is recovering, he hasn’t vomited in days, and Kenji has something weird going on, but he no longer has those damn veins. I have them on both arms and can’t even move from this fetal position; it’s too painful.’

  ‘No, you will pull through.’ I refused to acknowledge his rationale. ‘I will not lose you too.’

  ‘Let’s hope I have a last-minute recovery then, because right now, I don’t see myself lasting much longer. Not everyone is strong enough to adapt to whatever the hell is happening to us.’

  ‘But you are,’ I stressed. He had to be.

  Silence fell between our thoughts for a moment. I couldn’t lose Hector; I would not let another person I cared about have their life claimed by Van Wick. We had to get out of here before it was too late.

  ‘Look at Kenji, am I seeing stuff?’

  I wasn’t sure what Hector was talking about, so I rushed over to the front of my cell. The ice had melted from the glass of Kenji’s pod, water pooled on the floor at the bottom of the glass. Kenji’s eyes were moving from left to right, and on closer inspection, I saw that the water was slowly moving along the floor, in the same direction as his eye movements. Then, as Kenji squinted, the liquid started to bubble, steam rising.

  ‘What the hell?’

  ‘I think,’ Hector started, ‘he can manipulate elements, or water at least.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Hector.’

  ‘Says the person who is communicating with me through thoughts.’

  I then realised he was right. I had to forget everything I thought I knew; at this stage anything was possible, and no idea was a bad idea. Truth be told, I don’t think I had really processed the sense of a new reality. What would happen if we did get out? Nothing could ever be the same again. I needed to communicate with Ken
ji, but at this stage, I knew it was a long shot if I couldn’t reach Atlas. Atlas was closer to me after all, both emotionally and in terms of distance.

  ‘You need to get his attention, Hector. Get him to look at me.’

  ‘Moving hurts, Blaire, can’t you just do your thing? You know, this thing that we’re doing, like right now?’

  ‘He’s too far away—I think,’ I clarified. ‘I have no idea how this works.’

  After a moment, Kenji’s head snapped towards me. Whatever Hector had done to get his attention worked. I pointed at the floor of Kenji’s pod and mouthed ‘What?’

  Kenji shrugged, his eyes wide. At that, I pointed to my head and then to Hector. He looked at me, confused. I thought for a moment and then mouthed ‘watch this,’ and clapped three times, I gestured towards Hector.

  ‘Hector, I need you to clap three times for me.’

  ‘Why?’ I could tell her didn't want to move, after all, I could feel how weak he was. Regardless, I needed him to do it.