Once again, I was feeling the clock ticking down, pressure mounting in me to do something. I stepped out into the hall and moved toward the door leading to the stairs. I stepped over the threshold, and took a deep breath.
Then I began to run. I began slowly at a light jog. My makeshift bag bounced against my back, but nothing inside it shifted out of place. I took the stairs two or three at a time, my heart already pounding in my chest.
Something was nagging me at the back of my mind—something I had overlooked—but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
I raced through the living quarters and through the door to the next staircase, my mind whirling. The nagging sensation intensified, and I felt a spike of fear and anxiety.
I tried to push it away, but the hair on the back of my neck was standing on end as I entered the common greenhouse. I slowed down and came to a stop in the middle of the room.
Looking around, I couldn’t see anything out of place. Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. I turned around, staring back at the way I’d come. The door was open, and I couldn’t see anything lurking on the stairwell.
Frowning, I half turned back to resume running when I paused. Looking back, I stared at the door, suddenly confused.
The door leading to the stairwell down was open. I blinked, trying to process the implications of that. The door automatically closed after a few seconds, sealing itself—likely to keep each level secure in case of a breach. It took me a second to remember that the door from the stairs to the first level had been open as well. So had the one from the second level into the stairs. The door at the bottom of the stairs had been torn off, but the one on the opposite side was standing wide open.
The only way to keep the door open was to prop it that way. But from where I was standing, I couldn’t see anything keeping it from closing. I could examine it closer, but my instincts were telling me that was a bad idea.
In fact, my instincts were telling me that I was in great danger. I looked to the door on the other side of the room, surprised to find it open as well.
I hesitated. I remembered opening them on my way up. Maybe the system was broken somehow? The fight between Viggo and Marina had caused damage in the lab—maybe something had been damaged, and now the doors weren’t self-closing.
That didn’t explain the door I hadn’t opened on the top level though. Licking my lips, I decided the best course of action was to head downstairs and get back to the others, quickly and quietly.
I took a step toward the door. A small sound behind me of another footstep hitting the ground seconds after mine spurred me into motion.
I ran, grasping the bag bouncing on my back with a sweaty hand. I didn’t even look back—whether it was paranoia or there was something else in here with us—I knew I had to get to the others fast.
I leapt through the threshold, grabbing the handrail and using it to make a quick course change. I heard the footsteps behind me now, racing after me, and my heart picked up speed. I cleared the first landing, practically leaping down the next.
The door in front of me was closed, and I grabbed the hand wheel, spinning it hard, panic giving me adrenaline and speed.
Then something struck me hard from behind, and I collapsed on the floor, my vision blurring and going gray. I blinked, trying to clear my vision, when I felt something press over my mouth and nose. A strange chemical smell filled my nostrils as I inhaled.
Viggo’s pale face, spattered with blood, filled my mind, and I struggled to fight off the drowsiness that was overwhelming me.
And then the darkness was dragging me down.
39
Violet
I woke up with a start, my mind suddenly aware. Adrenaline spiked my system and I sat up, looking around.
I was in one of the bedrooms on the second level. The room was dark, but there was a yellow light trickling in from under the door.
Ripping off the blanket, I stood up. I was wearing a light white dress that came to my knees. It was too big in the shoulders and a bit snug on the hips, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
Something shifted on the bed, and I jumped back. There was a gentle whine, and a thumping sound. I backed up slowly, and pushed on the bathroom door, swinging it open and letting the light illuminate the room.
Samuel whined again from where he was laying on the bedspread. His tail was thumping as he looked at me. I stared at him, wondering how the hell he had gotten here.
It took me nearly a minute to remember how I had gotten here. Once I did, I raced over to the door, my hand twisting the knob. I needed to find Viggo and Tim.
Samuel barked and leapt off the bed. I pulled at the door, but it was locked. Beating my fists on it, I shouted, hoping that whoever had attacked me hadn’t locked me in the room and left me to die.
I tried to think about who it could be as I attempted to force the door open. I realized that whoever it was wanted me alive, not dead. They had locked me in the room, but they hadn’t chained me up. In fact, gauging from the bandages I was now feeling wrapped around my ribs, they had patched me up.
It didn’t matter—I needed to find Viggo and Tim. I hit my fist on the door for several minutes, shouting for someone to open it, but no one came. After a while, I tried using things I found in the room to hit the lock with, to no avail.
Eventually, I gave up, and began examining the door closely. The hinges of the door were on this side. If I could find something slim enough, I might be able to unscrew them from the door.
I tore the room apart looking. Samuel watched me, whining softly for attention. I emptied drawers onto the bed, tossing aside clothes and pens and notebooks, growing more and more frustrated as I did.
I tested every surface in the room, seeing if I could peel something off to use on the screws. Eventually, I tried going after them with my nails. The only progress I made from that was a few hangnails.
Defeated, I sat down heavily on the floor, resting my back against the door.
Samuel peeked out from under the bed, staring at me with his warm brown eyes.
“Hey buddy,” I murmured, patting my thigh. He crawled over on his belly, his ears lowered. I held out my hand to him and, after a moment of hesitation, he licked it. He then proceeded to try and crawl into my lap.
I patted him on the head, and sighed.
“It’s always one thing after another,” I told him. His tail picked up speed, thumping on the floor. “Why, just once, can’t things go my way?”
He stared at me in response, and I leaned my head back, resting it on the door. Samuel rested his head on my thigh. I felt the cold press of the metal from the buckle of his collar digging in uncomfortably, and I took a moment to twist it around his neck.
Then I froze. Looking at his collar, I clenched my fist in frustration over how I had overlooked it. It took me a second to unhook it and rising to my feet, I started at the top screw. I had to fiddle with it for a few moments, trying to find the best way to fit the buckle into the slot, but after a few trials, I managed to position it just right.
I began twisting the buckle. It was painstakingly slow, and more often than not it slipped out of the screw. However, finally the screw began to loosen under my efforts. I twisted until I could get my fingers on it, and then used them to unscrew it.
I had just pried the second one out, when I heard the doorknob rattle. Surprised, I took quick step back, just missing the door as it swung open.
A young man was on the other side. He was just a few inches taller than me, with blond hair and bright blue eyes. He was wearing a black uniform with no insignia anywhere on it. The uniform was skin-tight, clinging to the bulging muscles of his arms and legs. His expression was carefully neutral.
“Violet,” he greeted me.
“How do you… Where are Tim and Viggo?”
The man stared at me. “I’m not at liberty to discuss that at this time.”
I grated my teeth together, my fists clenched. “You better get liberated r
eal soon,” I threatened.
Smirking as if I amused him, he crossed his arms. “I can tell you that your brother and boyfriend are alive.”
Relief washed through me, but I ignored it. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“Forgive me. I should have introduced myself. My name is Owen Barns, and I want to escort you down to the laboratory so that you can be debriefed.”
I absorbed his information quietly. “Are you with Matrus or Patrus?” I demanded, crossing my arms.
He quirked a blond eyebrow. “Neither,” he replied, offering his arm.
I gaped at him, staring at his arm like it was a snake about to bite me. How could he be from neither nation? Who was he, and why was he lying to me? Instantly, I distrusted him. “I think I’ll walk myself,” I said.
Owen shrugged. “Suit yourself. After you.” He stepped back out of the doorframe and held out an arm toward the hallway.
I moved into the hallway, heading for the door at the end. The doors to all of the rooms were closed, and I wondered if Viggo and Tim were in one of them. I started to reach for one of the doorknobs, when Owen’s hand grabbed my wrist with a firm but strong grasp.
“You will be permitted to see your companions after your debriefing,” he said. “Until then, please keep your hands to yourself.”
Grimacing, I snatched my hand out of his grip and stalked to the door. I wanted to get to the bottom of this.
We moved downstairs quickly. There was sign of activity everywhere, but I couldn’t see anyone anywhere. I commented on it, but Owen just smirked at me and urged me to continue down.
I really wanted to punch him, and hopefully I would get the chance to. However, regardless of how empty the levels were, I needed more information before I planned my escape. Like where Viggo, Tim, and Ms. Dale were, and how many other people were with Owen.
He opened the door to the lab, and I stepped through. The area had been cleaned up, but I saw the two bodies lying in the middle of the floor covered with a tarp, and I paused.
“The twins,” Owen said behind me.
I shot him a contemptuous look. “I figured that out,” I said dryly.
A soft sound coming from Dr. Jenks’ office caught my attention, and I turned toward it. An older woman was sitting behind the desk, staring at the computer from behind a pair of spectacles. Her hair was dark, with white streaks running from the temples. It was casually styled. She was wearing the same uniform as Owen.
Owen held out his arm with a flourish, pointing me into the room.
I ignored his antics and strode inside.
“Who the hell are you?” I demanded.
The older woman turned her head toward me, her blue eyes flicking over me.
“Violet Bates,” she said, settling back in the chair.
She watched me for a long moment in contemplative silence. I could feel her gaze like a weight. Whoever this woman was, she had a commanding presence. I felt uncomfortable under her scrutiny.
“Owen, you are dismissed,” she said.
Owen said nothing, but closed the door behind me, sealing me in with this woman.
“Sit down, Ms. Bates,” the woman said, her tone brooking no disobedience. I contemplated standing in open defiance of her, but I realized it was a childish ploy. I sat down in the chair.
“Who are you?” I asked.
She arched an eyebrow at me, tapping her fingers on the table. Taking off her glasses, she studied me.
“Who do you think I am?” she asked, interlacing her fingers.
I paused. “I don’t know. The guy—Owen—he said you weren’t with Matrus or Patrus. Are you a rebel faction?”
She inclined her head a fraction of an inch. “There are some that would say that, although we have taken great care to remain on the periphery of both societies.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?” she asked.
“Because you don’t agree with either society’s position?”
“Is that a question, or are you certain?”
I sighed in frustration. “Look, to be honest, I don’t care. All I want is my people returned. If you have no allegiance to either side, then that should be easy enough.”
She nodded at me. “That’s true. But let me ask you this: Where would you go?”
Hesitating for a moment, I shrugged. “I haven’t really gotten that far ahead,” I admitted.
A small smile played at her lips. “I figured. What if I were to offer you a solution?”
I stared at the older woman across from me warily. “At what price?”
The smile on her lips grew. “I knew I would like you, Violet,” she said. “You don’t ask what the solution is—you skip to the price. That’s practical, and very clever.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“To be fair, I haven’t answered any of them,” she replied. “But I will, eventually. First—tell me what you know of this place.”
I frowned. “You’ve already read the computers. I’m assuming you’ve seen downstairs.”
“I have. I’m more interested in your observations at the moment.”
Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. “It’s a laboratory.” She gave me a look of impatience, but I ignored her. “A Matrian facility for experimenting on humans.”
“Go on.”
“They’re… trying to do something. Enhance people.”
“How?”
I shrugged, but as I did so, I realized I knew the answer. “Make them stronger. Faster. Smarter.”
“Why?”
I paused, thinking about it. “I… I don’t know.” Rubbing my hands on the front of my dress, I contemplated the question. “Because, if they can make people stronger—better—they can have an advantage.”
“What do you think they would use that advantage for?”
I looked at her. “Defeating their enemies,” I replied, a hard knot forming in my stomach.
The woman leaned back, an extremely satisfied look on her face. “Exactly.”
I had been reaching, trying to come up with answers regarding the why of things, and I finally had an answer. My eyes flicked over to the egg sitting in the case.
She followed my gaze, shifting in her seat. “Mr. Jenks’ perfect human,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers. Abruptly, she stood up and walked over to the door. “Come with me,” she ordered as she strode out of the office.
After another look at the egg—the real egg—sitting behind the glass panel, I obeyed, quickening my stride to follow her.
40
Violet
She led me downstairs to the lowest level before stopping, resting her hands on the handrails and staring out at the rows of cubes hanging suspended over darkness.
“Mr. Jenks’ test subjects,” she said without looking at me. “I dedicated a huge part of my life to trying to find them, but I never thought I would find them like this.”
I studied her. “Who are you?” I asked again.
She gave a long sigh, and then turned around, resting a hip against the rail and folding her arms across her chest. “I’m going to tell you Violet, but you have to promise not to react until after I say what I have to say.”
I nodded in wordless agreement and she sighed again, looking out over her shoulder before replying: “My name is Desmond Bertrand.”
I stared, dumbstruck, as she pulled a familiar piece of paper from her pocket and held it up. “I believe you knew my son,” she said.
“D-Desmond? Lee’s mother?” I blurted, shock rolling over me. “But, that’s a male name—and Lee said that his mother was dead!”
“A lot of people think I’m dead. I went to great lengths to make it look like I died. As for my name—all the women in my family have been given male names. It’s a silly tradition, but one I probably would have followed if I had ever had a daughter.” She gave a smirk, her eyes meeting mine. “Just something to break the gender lines for women and proclaim our
equality, I suppose.”
“But—”
She held up a hand, and my protest died on my lips. “Let me finish, Violet.”
I closed my mouth and waited.
“When I escaped Patrus and gave birth to Lee on the river, I knew there was an advantage to be claimed there. I ensured that Lee was given the freedom to choose which nation he wanted, and advocated that he become a spy of Matrus.
“He began training at a young age. He wasn’t very good at the physical aspect of spy craft, but mentally, my son was quite adept. He excelled at lying and convincing others to do what he wanted. A few years later, I wanted another child—without the hassle of marrying or finding a male to help—so I signed up for artificial insemination.
“Around the same time, the testing of Matrian males changed. More boys started being flagged for violent and aggressive tendencies. Before, it had been maybe one in twenty that were taken. Now, it was closer to one in ten. Like so many others, I believed it was a good thing. Lee passed the test with flying colors, which didn’t surprise me. But my second son, Jay, did not, and he was carted off.
“I was beside myself with grief. My son, my sweet baby boy, had been taken by his own country and shipped off to the mines, and I was never going to get to hold him again. Suffice it to say, I was not pleased.
“Neither was Lee. We faked my death together and I headed north, hoping to find and rescue him. I spent one year looking for these mines, and you know what I found? Nothing. It was then that I realized that our government was lying to us.
“I contacted Lee, and he managed to intercept some information about a facility where the boys were sent to. I found sympathizers who had been affected by the changed policy, and I organized them. Together, we broke into the facility. It was an exact replica of this place, but somehow, someone had tipped them off that we were coming.
“At the time, I had no idea what their goal was. I spent years trying to find out. It wasn’t until Lee received orders to retrieve this egg that we got a break. Lee managed to use one of the phone calls between you and Mr. Jenks to infiltrate his system. He couldn’t get much, but what he did get indicated the egg was the final stage of Mr. Jenks’ research.
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