“Welcome to Haven!” she says again, staring at me.
And suddenly I’m aware of how fixed her smile is. Her eyes, so wide, so intense, rather than being overjoyed, bear an aspect of psychosis. There’s no recognition in her.
“Octavia?” Echo asks, coming up beside me.
“What’s happened to you? Where’s Jarvis?” I ask.
She blinks at me. Suddenly she gasps, but even this is off. Abnormal. It carries on slightly too long. Something is wrong, but I can’t imagine what. Did the captivity drive her mad?
“I didn’t recognize you. It’s been so long!” she says. Her arms close around me, but the hug is somehow cold and awkward. I look at Echo over her shoulder. Her confusion mirrors mine.
“Oh, I can’t believe this! Jarvis is inside. Follow me. He’ll be so happy,” Octavia says, turning away.
The paranoia has sprung back into place, killing some of the joy of our arrival. Echo takes my hand. She’s bewildered, frightened. We follow Octavia. Maybe Jarvis will have answers. The people we pass go about their business, gardening, manning storefronts, fixing the doors to a church. They are all smiling; what the hell? This many people can’t be happy on the same day. Echo squeezes my hand with an almost painful intensity.
“How did you get free?” I ask Octavia as we walk.
“There … There was an accident. It’s difficult to remember. Jarvis will explain. I’m so glad you’re here,” Octavia says.
“We’re–glad to be here,” Echo says, flashing me a look that’s less certain.
Octavia leads us to a large white-brick building with elaborate red double-doors and corners that merge into round-towers, like a medieval keep. Armored turrets are mounted on the towers. Smaller barrels poke out from the walls. There’s not a soul in sight. Above the doors, a sign reads, “Vermillion Hall.” Octavia leads us inside.
“This is the waiting room. Please sit. I’ll get Jarvis,” Octavia says.
The room is small. Two padded benches sit along the walls. There’s a metal door at the far end. Soft, surreal music plays from a hidden speaker.
“Octavia, wait. Tell us what’s going on,” Echo says.
“What do you mean?” Octavia asks.
“What do you mean what do I mean? The last I saw you, you were screaming for help as a robot pushed you into the back of a transport. How did you get here?” Echo asks.
Octavia blinks at her.
“Jarvis will explain,” she says, and goes through the metal door.
“Does this seem strange to you?” Echo whispers after she’s gone.
“Very.”
I have a lot of questions, but when you live your whole life in fear, sometimes it’s hard to determine whether there’s really something wrong or you’re just imagining things again. Echo is moving along the walls, scanning them like a trapped animal.
“Do you hear that?” she asks.
“The music?”
“No. Something else.”
I listen closely. She’s right. There’s a soft hissing sound. I can’t determine where it’s coming from. Things are starting to feel strange, distant. Like looking at life through a tunnel. The feeling creeps, accumulating slowly until it becomes impossible to ignore. Then it’s more than just a “feeling.” It’s physical.
“We’re being drugged,” someone says with my voice. Things are growing distant. Numb. My hand, a stranger’s hand, reaches for a door. It stretches across untold miles of space. Everything is vast and unfathomable. The door won’t open. The stranger’s brain can’t comprehend the malfunction. Something is panicking in a dark corner of awareness. This should open…
What should open?
There’s a gap in continuity. The stranger is on the floor. Oh, someone else is here. Octavia–thank Crom. Her delicate fingers depress the flesh of the stranger’s forearm. A needle goes in, injecting silver liquid. Isn’t that interesting? Wait. Someone should really be doing something. But it’s of no great concern. Now comes the darkness.