Convergent (Part One)

Her: Chapter 12

The air is charged. The world is red. Men clothed in black are filling the halls, raising their guns.

Then I hear something shatter.

The heavy weight of feet slapping against pavement is enough to reach even the room I've been led into, similar to the one I've been sheltered in for the last couple of months. There's a metal sink located in the corner, a metal tray full of utensils and syringes, and a massive box that appears to be a generator of some kind. In the center of the room is, of course, a lay back chair which is where I sit now.

I watch Doctor Rellings pace back in front of me, trying to steady my heartbeat that has climbed into my throat. Sweat glistens visibly on his forehead and he runs his hand through his hair. Once. Twice. He wipes his palms on the front of his white smock before shoving them into the pockets.

"Who was that?" I ask, feeling the questions burn in the back of my throat. I'm silently hoping for a name. A piece of something hidden in my past that will identify the man in the lab, because I think I know him. Knew him.

The Doctor casts me a wary look. "Illegals, Beatrice. Imposters. Nosy outsiders that are completely unimportant."

"Well, what did they want?" I ask,

"That's none of your concern."

"Who was he?" Now I'm just desperate, being fed vague answers that aren't even answers; just replies that will be enough to keep me from talking more.

"He's no one," he says. "Somebody hired to break in. This is actually quite common. People that dismiss responsibility and authority and decide to do what they want, regardless of law."

Something beeps, interrupting my thought. The doctor lifts his wrist to his mouth, a light flashing around it.

"Are they in custody?" he asks, his voice unnaturally steady.

A grainy voice answers back. "No, Sir."

The doctor grits his teeth. I notice his hand is shaking, just slightly. "Has it been confirmed what was taken?"

A moment of silence.

"No, Sir. We believe to be missing S. samples, but we have not identified which ones."

The doctor falters for a second before he composes himself, so quickly I wonder if it was just my imagination. His tone suddenly turns dark. "Find them," he barks. "Each of them. They are a liability to the system. They are-" his eyes lift to meet mine and his next words, I know, are meant for me. "They are dangerous. Rebels. Outcasts. And if what they have taken is not returned, innocent people will die. "

His words echo in the back of my head. Innocent people could die.

I stare at the doctor and he stares back, his jaw taut, hands still trembling. The light on his wrist blinks off.

I bite my lip, suddenly feeling more unsure than I ever thought I'd been in this place. "So," I say, my voice hesitant. "Are you saying that guy is a killer?"

The doctor gives me a solemn nod, but I don't feel it in his eyes. "They are selfish, Beatrice. They take from us and stop what we are trying to do, and that is to protect this city."

I fold my hands in my lap; stare into them. For some reason, I can't connect the word "killer" to the man in the lab. I didn't see him as something dangerous, I thought of him as something comforting and even though I try to imagine him as what the doctor makes him out to be, all I see is a hand held to glass, reaching out to me, accompanied by a haunting feeling that I've seen it before.

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