Specimen (18 page)

“What do you mean?” he asks.

I don’t get a chance to say anything else before the meeting begins.

“Specimen Seventy-Two,” Captain Mills says as she looks at me, “we have already heard Fourteen’s account of the mission.  I want you to start from the moment you broke away from the other specimens.”

I take one last look at Isaac before I take a deep breath.

“I disengaged from the group and went back to verify we were not being followed,” I say.  “I discovered later that I had been hit with a tracking device and that my implant was compromised.  I was compelled to backtrack, which is when I was captured.”

I recount everything from my capture and subsequent torture.  They are primarily interested in the presence of Errol Spat and Anna Jarvis.  Most of the doctors take notes as I speak, and a few of them ask me questions.  Riley doesn’t take notes and says nothing.  When I glance at her, I have the impression she’s barely keeping herself together as I tell them what I went through.

I say nothing about my conversation with Merle regarding my identity, and I don’t bring up Hal at all.  I simply skip seamlessly from one point to the next until I get to the part of the story where Riley finds me.

“What was the name of the man who came to speak to you?”  It’s the first time Colonel Mills has spoken to me.

“Merle, sir,” I say as I look him in the eye.  “He never gave me a last name.”

“Merle Hudson,” Captain Mills says.  “He is still alive.”

“Hudson?”  I look between each of the Mills officers, and they both nod.

“Peter Hudson’s cousin,” Colonel Mills says.  “He was a dean at Carson University before the comet struck.  We’ve had conflicting intelligence over the years concerning his activities and whereabouts, including rumors of his death.”

The technical team asks for clarification on Errol Spat’s activities in my presence, and I answer them as best I can.  When they’re finished, Captain Mills questions me about my escape.

“I don’t have much memory of it,” I tell her.  “Spat said my implants were failing, and Jarvis said I was going to die.”

“Why didn’t they just let you die?”  Dr. McCall sits up straight in her seat and glares at me.  “They could have dissected you, had plenty of time to hack into your implants, and learned everything you were unable to tell them yourself.”

“Those implants can’t be hacked,” one of the techs points out.  “If an attempt is made, they self-destruct.”

“If anyone knows a way around that design, it’s Spat.  We have no idea if he created backdoors for himself.”

“Of course he did.  What tech doesn’t?”

“You sound like you want to be thrown off this project.”  Captain Mills raises an eyebrow as she stares down the tech.

“No, ma’am,” he says.  “I’m just being honest here.”

“That’s treason.”

“It’s not a matter of treason,” the tech says.  “It’s a safety measure in case anything was to go significantly wrong.”

“He’s right,” another tech says.  “It’s a common practice in design.”

They argue the point for several minutes before Dr. McCall comes back to me.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she says.  “Why were you released?”

“I can’t answer that, ma’am.”

“Can’t or won’t?”  She sneers at me.

“I don’t know why they released me,” I say.  “I can only tell you what I heard.  I’m not even sure if my account from that time can be trusted.  I was having difficulty remaining conscious, and I was barely coherent when I was.  I remember Jarvis saying I was going into withdrawal because they didn’t have the drug treatments.  Spat seemed to think the extreme cold I was subjected to in order to make the implants fail might have been too much for my system to handle.”

“Sten,” Riley says, and I tense at the sound, “tell me with complete honesty—why do you believe they let you go?”

“They said I was important, and that they couldn’t allow me to die,” I tell her.  “If they said why, I didn’t hear it or don’t recall hearing it.  I was in a great deal of pain at the time.  There was really only one thing on my mind.”

“What was that?” Riley asks.

“Getting back to you.”  I watch her eyes soften slightly at my words before she turns back to the table.

“There you go,” Riley says as she eyeballs McCall.  “I gave him an order, and he’s obeyed it.  You know everything he does about why he was released.”

“They’ve tampered with him.”  McCall glares at Riley, and I tense everywhere.

Everyone in the room begins talking at once as I stare at Riley.  I want to reach out and take her hand, but I don’t think it would be considered protocol.  Instead, I shift my leg over a little until it’s touching hers under the table.

Captain Mills silences everyone and calls the meeting back to order.

“We’ve got a lot to discuss,” Captain Mills says.  “The specimen can be returned to the lab now.  I do think it’s prudent to continue to post guards outside the room for the time being until the techs have finished their review of his implant data.”

I rise and Riley stands beside me, ready to escort me back to the lab.

“Dr. Grace, please remain,” Colonel Mills says.

Riley glances at me before she sits down again.  Guards lead me back to the lab where I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for Riley to return.  She’s gone a long time, and I become increasing agitated every minute I wait.

When she finally returns, she appears haggard and worried.

“Everything go all right?” I ask.

Riley sighs as she glances at the mirror.  We are still being monitored, without a doubt.

“McCall is…well, being herself.  She knows you can’t lie when I ask you a direct question like that, but she’s insisting that you did.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know.”  She chews on her lip as she walks over and stands beside the bed.

She wants to say something else, but she keeps glancing at the mirror.  Whatever she wants to say, she doesn’t want anyone else hearing it.  I’m confused by her actions.  If she’s lied to me about being a volunteer, why is she trying to protect me now?

There is no doubt that I am as drawn to her as I have ever been, possibly even more so.  After the long absence from her, I try to stay close enough that I can reach out and touch her at any given time.  She’s trying to protect me and the knowledge she knows I have, but I don’t know her motivations.

Riley closes the distance between us and places both hands on either side of my face.  Without a word, she pulls me in to kiss her.  As soon as the connection is made, my body reacts predictably.  I grab her and pull her against me tightly.  Parts of my body are still sore but not the one I need the most right now.

Riley grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head before she runs her fingers over my chest.  She fingers a bruise on my abdomen, gently caressing it as she presses her lips together.  I take her hand from my skin and bring her fingers to my mouth.  I suck one of them between my lips as I keep my eyes trained on hers.

She swallows hard, pulls her hand back, and quickly removes her clothes, setting them neatly on the rolling chair as I drop mine on the floor.  She pushes my shoulders until I lie flat on the bed and then straddles me.  She grabs a hold of my cock, positions it between her legs, and then lowers herself over me.  She groans loudly as I grasp her hips and start to thrust up against her.

“Slow,” she whispers as she leans over me.

I comply instantly, sliding in and out of her, inch by inch.  Every doubt and mistrust I had is gone as I merge with her, and I am instantly lost in the sensation.  Riley kisses my chest and then my neck.  I have to push up with my heels to stay inside of her as she practically crawls up me to get to my ear.

“What didn’t you tell them?” she whispers as she bites the lobe.  “Speak as softly as you can.”

She grinds against me, moaning loudly again.  Her question has caught me off guard, and I’m not sure at first what she’s doing.

It’s a distraction.

She said there were several people monitoring from behind the mirror, which means they are all watching us now.  Human nature says they’ll focus on something else so those around them don’t think they’re being voyeuristic.

I grin, rather proud that she thought of such a tactic.  I place a hand on the side of her head and press my lips to her jaw.

“Merle told me who I was.  There was another man there—a man I knew before.  I’ve known him my whole life.”

“They could have been lying to you.”

“They weren’t.”  I grab her by the waist and roll us both over.  I rock into her a few times before leaning back over to her ear.

“How do you know?” she whispers through grunts.

“Because I’ve had dreams about him.  In my dreams, I knew my name.”

Riley stills for a moment and then wraps her legs around my waist.

“How long have you had these dreams?” she asks.

“As long as I can remember.”  I cup one of her breasts, tweaking the nipple with my thumb.  “Probably before I could remember
anything
.  You know better than I do.  You erased some of my memories from the beginning.”

She turns her head slightly away, but I grasp her chin and turn her back to me.  I stare in her eyes before kissing her again.

“It is true, isn’t it?” I murmur against her mouth.

“You talked about a past when the treatments first started,” she says.  Her lips trail down my throat and she digs her fingertips into my back.  “There was a slight defect in your implant, but we corrected it.”

“And wiped out who I was.”

“You were upset…confused.”

“So you took my memories.”  I thrust into her harder, and she gasps.

“You weren’t supposed to have any!”  She tilts her head back and moans as I start to pound into her.

I wrap one arm around her hip and the other around her shoulders.  I pull her close, run my nose up her jawline, and accent each of my words with a hard thrust of my cock.

“Did you know where I came from?”  I pound into her.  “Did you know I was forced into this as a punishment?  Did you know that the whole time?”

“What are you talking about?”  She lifts her head and presses her forehead against mine.  “I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t volunteer, and you know it.”

“That’s not true, Sten.”

I grit my teeth, grip her tighter, and slam into her again.

“My name is Galen!”  I growl each syllable into her mouth.

I slow my pace slightly to allow her to catch her breath.  She keeps her arms and legs wrapped around me as I sit back, pulling her into my lap.  I run my hand over her ass and pull her against me as she leans her head on my shoulder.

“Fine!”  Her voice is a hiss in my ear.  “Galen, then!  That doesn’t make it any less true!  You volunteered for this!  You wanted to serve the Mills Conglomerate in this capacity—all of you did!  You’re soldiers doing your duty!  You agreed to have your memories erased, or I never would have done it!”

“I didn’t agree to anything.  I didn’t agree to have my farm taken away.  I didn’t agree to have my sister raped and killed.  I didn’t even want to sign that fucking loyalty oath, but they made me do it!”

“Loyalty oath?”  Riley pulls back to look at me, her voice dropping low.  “That can’t be right.”

“Why not?”

She doesn’t answer.  She pushes my chest until I release my grip around her waist.  She climbs off of me and gets off of the bed.  Grabbing her clothes from the chair, she dresses quickly and grabs her bag from the desk.

“What are you doing?”

“I need to go,” she says.  “I’ll be back in the morning.”

Without another word, she rushes out the door.

I sit in the center of the bed and stare at the closed door.  I have no idea what just happened.  Her plan had been brilliant.  We could have exchanged information that way all night long.  She could have helped me understand exactly what she knew and why she would do this to me, but now she’s gone. Is she angry because I accused her of knowing I didn’t volunteer to be a specimen?  She’s run out after sex before but never halfway through.  What did I say to make her take off like that?

I glance down at my abandoned cock.

Maybe like me, it’s just a tool she’s uses when she wants or needs it.  Maybe now that I know the truth, she has no more interest in either of us.

As angry as I have felt, the longing I have for her is deeper and needier.  I never should have told her my name.  I should have kept my silence from the very beginning, forgotten the whole experience.  If I had done that, maybe she would still be here, but I didn’t, and she’s not.

She’s gone, and I’m left alone and unsatisfied.

I don’t sleep that night.  For the longest time, I just sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the door, waiting for Riley’s return.  After a few hours, I lie on my side and watch the door from that position, but I never sleep.

I assume there is someone else here, watching me from the other side of the mirror, but no one comes in.  As the hours pass, I become more and more anxious.

Where did Riley go, and what is she doing?  Did she reveal my secret to her superiors, and they are now discussing what is to be done with me?

I grab onto the pillow on the bed and pull it to my chest.  It still smells like her.  I close my eyes and inhale deeply.  I had missed her scent so much while I was detained that even this diffused, lingering fragrance calls to me and brings me a slight amount of peace.

As I tighten my grip on the pillow, I think about everything she said to me before she left.  She admitted to erasing my memories on more than one occasion.  She knew I was dreaming about my past, and she took that from me.  She said it was in my best interest, but I don’t believe that.

I shake my head sharply.  Riley took care of me.  She stayed by my side the whole time I went through this transformation, and she stayed beside me in my bed when I couldn’t stand the thought of her leaving.  I saw the tears in her eyes when she found me bruised and damaged.  I know she cares about me.

Throughout the night, my thoughts fluctuate.  It’s like pulling the petals from a daisy: She loves me, she loves me not.  I trust Riley, I trust her not.  The more I think about it, the more the terror inside me grows.

It’s early morning when the door finally opens again.

I sit up straight in the bed.  Riley marches in with her medical bag in one hand, looking all business.  She goes straight to the computer on the desk—no “good morning”, no smile, no nothing first—and taps rapidly at the keys.

“Come with me.”  Riley glances at the mirror and then quickly looks away again.  “I went over the diagnostic information the techs gave me from your implants.  I want to take some scans and verify a few things before surgery.”

A cold chills runs through me as my body moves to comply with her directive.  I stumble off the bed and walk toward her.

“Get dressed first,” she mumbles, still barely looking at me.

I glance down at my naked body and head for the cabinet.  I grab the first things I see and dress myself.

Diagnostic information.

Scans.

Surgery.

“Riley?”

“Come on, now,” she says as she beckons me.  “We’ve got a lot to get done today.”

I follow her out of the lab.  I want to hold back, refuse to leave the room, but there’s nothing I can do but obey her.  She’s obviously in a hurry, and I take long strides to keep up with her fast pace through the halls.  Guards follow us, but they stay on the other side of the door as she brings me into a room with an examination table.

At one end of the table is a curved machine designed to pass over the head of whomever is lying down.  I don’t have a clear recollection of its purpose, but I know I don’t want to go any closer.

She’s going to erase my memories again.

I grab her hand.

“Please, Riley.”  I can’t let this happen again.  I can’t, but there’s nothing I can do except obey her commands.

“What?”

“Please, don’t do it.  I don’t want to forget.”

“I’m not going to,” she says quietly.  Her eyes shift.  Everything about her posture and her expression is wrong.  She’s lying—I know she is.

“I can’t stop you,” I say as I tighten my grip.  “You know I can’t, but I don’t want to forget.  If I forget, I’ll forget everything—not just about my past but about how I feel about you, Riley.  I don’t want to forget that.”

Her face tightens as if she’s fighting to keep words inside her.  She presses her lips together tightly as she squeezes my hand.

“It’s not what you think.”  Riley runs her thumb over the inside of my arm.

Now that I understand exactly what she’s doing—technologically placating me—the fear I feel changes to anger.  I pull my hand away from her, immediately longing for the contact with her skin.

“I don’t want this!”  I raise my voice, but I can’t move against her.

“Hush!”  She glances at a blinking camera in the corner of the room.  “I’m going to get the scanner set up.  Once it’s in place, we’ll talk.”

“Talk?”

“I’m not going to perform the scan, Sten.  I’m not going to take your memories away, I swear.  I just want to talk to you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There’s no audio monitoring in this room,” Riley says.  “Just lie down and relax.”

Confused, but forced into action by her command, I get on the table and lie on my back.  Riley starts to maneuver the scanner over my head and leans close to me.  She speaks softly.

“The first Project Mindstorm trials used prisoners,” she tells me.  “I wasn’t a part of it at that time.  The original trials were dismal failures, and some believed it was because of the use of violent criminals.  Their brain chemistry was different from other people’s.  They didn’t react well to the treatments.”

“What happened to them?”

“They were completely uncontrollable,” Riley says.  “They all had to be…voided.”

“Killed.”

“Yes.”

Is that why she’s brought me here?  Am I to be destroyed?

“Are you going to kill me now?”

“God, Sten!  No!  Just let me finish.”

I interpret her words as a command and stay silent while she finishes setting up the equipment around my head.  When she’s done, she leans in close and lays her hand on the side of my head.

“I found it,” Riley says quietly.

“Found what?”

“The loyalty oath,” she says.  “I found a document that had been signed by Galen Braggs.  That type of sworn statement was reserved for those caught up in the early takeover of farming communities.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you aren’t who they told me you are.”  Her eyes darken as she clenches her jaw.

“Was I a prisoner?”

“When I found the oath, I went digging a little deeper.  Galen Braggs was convicted of murdering two Mills soldiers.  There’s no photo associated with the file, but his description matches yours.  It says his sentence—
your
sentence—was execution.  I found the death records, and the date matches the date you were brought to this facility.”

I narrow my eyes as I try to make sense of her words.  If what she is saying is true, how could she not have known about it before?  Who exactly did they tell her I was?  Her words are a little too convenient.

I trust you, I trust you not.

“You said you chose me.  You said you saw me and picked me as your specimen.”

“I did.”

“Are you trying to convince me you didn’t know where I came from?”

“I only knew what I was told.”

“You never checked it out?  You knew prisoners were used before, and they all ended up dead.  Now you want me to believe you thought a bunch of people would just volunteer to have this done to them?  Is that what you are telling me?”

“It’s the truth, Sten.”

“My name,” I say through gritted teeth, “is Galen.”

“Do you really think I can just start calling you that here?  Do you think they’ll let you live if they figure out you have all your memories?  McCall wants you destroyed already.  She thinks you got Pike killed.  This is the final piece of information she needs to make that a reality!”

“I can’t hide it forever.”  I blink a few times as I stare at her.  “Can I?”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”  Riley shakes her head.  “Not long term.  Someone will eventually figure it out.”

“You’ll have to tell them,” I say.  “If you don’t, you’ll be implicated.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Aren’t you?”  I cock my head to the side and raise an eyebrow.  I don’t see another course of action that won’t end up costing her career.

“No!”  She wraps her fingers around my hand.  “I won’t do that to you!”

I close my eyes and let all the possible outcomes buzz around in my head.  There isn’t a definitive solution, and I don’t understand Riley’s motivations.

“I don’t know what to believe,” I finally say.

Riley runs her hand through her hair, sighing audibly.  She looks around the room, as if she can find some answer in the equipment that surrounds us and then looks back to me with clear eyes.

“I can prove it to you,” she says, “but not here.”

“Where, then?”

She chews on her lip as she pokes around at the scanner controls.  A light comes on over my head.

“What are you doing?” I ask

“I came in here to scan your implants,” she says.  “If I don’t, someone might get suspicious.  It’s just a low level scan; it won’t have any adverse impact on you.  I need a minute to think.”

“Think about what?”  I clench my fingers impatiently.

“I need a viable reason for taking you out of the facility,” she says.  “Something no one will discover for at least a few hours.”

She looks at the clock and breaks into a smile.

“Got it!”  She heads across the room and pulls an interface chip from a cabinet.  She links it up with the computer and then brings it over to place it on the side of my head.

I feel the pulsing of the data as it’s loaded into me, information about various aircraft, including how to fly them.

“What is this for?”

“Just follow my lead, and don’t say anything.”

She pulls a gurney over to the exam stable and moves me to it.  She straps down my arms and legs, but the restraints are loose.  I could pull out of them easily.

“Start thrashing around,” she says.  “Act like you’re having a convulsion.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it!”

I shake my arms up and down against the restraints and throw my head from side to side.  Riley runs to the door and yells to one of the guards.

“We’ve got a serious issue with this specimen’s implant!” she tells him.  “I need a helicopter on pad four in five minutes!  Transport to Highland Med—they have the neurological resources I need there.  I’ll contact them and tell them to expect us.  You get that helicopter!”

“Yes, ma’am!”  The guard takes off, and Riley yells at the other one to help her wheel me out of the room.  I keep shaking and thrashing around.

“What’s wrong with him?” the guard asks.  “He wasn’t like this before!”

“There’s a malfunction in the primary implant.  I can fix it, but I need to get him to Highland to do it.”

“We’ll get you there,” the guard says.

I’m wheeled into an elevator and then out to the rooftop.  I continue to flop around on the gurney, careful not to move too quickly or with too much force so I don’t break the straps.

“This is the only chopper that fits on this pad, ma’am!  We can’t fit him and your guards in at the same time.”

“We have to make do,” Riley yells over the whirring blades.  She shoves her medical bag under the seat inside the machine.  “We don’t have time to wait for another one!”

I force myself not to smile.  She chose the smaller pad on purpose so the guards wouldn’t fit.  The data on how to fly the helicopter is already loaded into my head.

The guard stands on the pad, bewildered, as we rise into the air without him.  The pilot, Riley, and I are the only ones on the chopper.

As soon as we’re in the air, Riley releases the straps from my arms and legs.  She says nothing, just gives me a forceful look and a nod toward the pilot.

I come up behind him and wrap my fingers around his throat.

“Just fly.”  I tell him.

His eyes go wide as I lean over and grab the radio with my free hand, pulling it from the control panel in the center.  Once the radio is destroyed, I grab the pilot’s safety harness and pull the release.

“Hang on,” I call back to Riley.

With a quick twist, I break the pilot’s neck.  The helicopter lurches forward for a moment as I pull his body from the seat and fling him behind me so I can take his place.  With my left hand, I grasp the collective, which controls the main rotor’s blade, and ease it higher while opening up the throttle.  I take hold of the cyclic control with my right hand to regulate the helicopter’s movement forward, backward, and side-to-side.  My feet rest on the anti-torque pedals to control our heading.

It all happens in under six seconds.

“Oh, my God!”

I glance back at Riley, who is gripping her seat with both hands.

“Do you have this?  Did the interface work?”

“I got it.”  I give her a smile.  “Where are we going?”

“West and north of Milton,” she says.  “There’s a place out in the woods—a cabin my father owned.  We should be good there for a while.”

I follow Riley’s directions to the cabin.  It’s early spring, and I can see it clearly between the branches of the trees with their new leaves.  I find a suitable spot to land and pay close attention to my airspeed as I approach, dropping to forty knots as I start to descend.