“There isn’t the slightest possibility that Al having the same birthday is just a coincidence?” Bryant asked, after he had viewed my birthday experience, along with Nadia and Lakin.
“I have no doubts that he is one of us. None at all,” I stated firmly.
I stared questioningly at Lakin, trying to convince myself that I wanted his insight, when really, I just wanted to hear his voice.
“How many more do you think there are like us?” Nadia asked excitedly.
“I don’t know. He’s obviously able to communicate to me through telepathy, but there must be some reason he hasn’t flat out explained everything to me,” I said interestedly.
“Now hold on, we still don’t know for sure that he is one of us,” Bryant said, shaking his head in frustration.
“I think he is,” Lakin piped up, taking us all by surprise.
“This might not have even been his birthday. It could all just be part of some scheme,” Bryant defended.
“That is true, but I’m with Angela. I was doubtful before, but I believe it now,” Lakin admitted.
“Why?!” Bryant exclaimed.
“I don’t know,” Lakin confessed, glancing at me. “I just do.”
A smile crept across my face. I was relieved that Lakin supported my opinion, having thought he would continue to fight the idea. I hoped that it meant we were on the path to recovering our damaged relationship.
“If he is like us, why can’t we read minds?” Bryant asked in a triumphant tone, obviously thinking he had defeated us.
“Maybe others like us have different abilities,” I countered with the same triumphant tone.
“I still think you should be careful,” Bryant said with finality, leaning back in his chair.
“When do you see him again?” Nadia asked, eyes ablaze with a hopeful fire.
“Tomorrow, I have a lab-run,” I replied.
“Are you going to try to communicate with him again?” she questioned.
“Yeah, I’ll try,” I smiled empathetically, knowing Nadia was optimistic that Al would be her escape from her coma.
We all sat in thoughtful silence for what seemed like an eternity. I mainly wondered why it had taken so long to discover that Al was one of us. Why hadn’t he just told me telepathically when we first met? Why was he even at The Facility? Maybe it was a plan to help me escape. I chuckled, shaking the ridiculous thought from my mind.
I awoke the next morning with an overwhelming sense of eagerness. Coffee wasn’t necessary as I dressed myself with enthusiasm, excited to see Al again. Besides that, it would be my first lab-run since I had almost burnt Al’s face off, which added to the perk in my step. I pranced happily to the front door, responding to the knocking.
“Good morning, Alvin!” I shouted with cheesy delight.
“Uh… good morning, Angela,” Al said with a hesitant chuckle. “Are you ready?”
“Yep!” I beamed, slamming the door behind me as I frolicked into the hallway.
“You seem excessively cheerful today,” Al noted.
“I have a feeling it’s going to be a good day,” I winked, punching the down button of the elevator vivaciously.
Al watched me curiously, as I fidgeted the entire ride down to the thirtieth floor; the very bottom level of The Facility. The elevator doors exposed a lab room just as the others, except behind the dividing glass panel was a floor covered in pure white sand. I eyed the employees, searching for Eddie’s kind face. I frowned in disappointment to find a very cross looking face in its place.
“Good morning, Miss Dawson,” a raspy voice called from the middle of the room.
Mr. Gray had been working at The Facility for nearly as long as Eddie, and was prime candidate for Eddie’s replacement as ‘Head Scientist’. He had always taken over for Eddie on sick days, and had a mechanical sense about him. He ran everything by the book, and rarely participated in small talk.
“Is Eddie still sick?” I interrogated, making my way toward the glass door.
“Afraid so,” Mr. Gray answered, observing Al suspiciously. “Mr. Waldreck, it is not routine for therapists to be present at lab-runs. I would think, after your last experience, that you would want to steer clear of the tests.”
“I think I’ll stay, if that’s quite alright with you.” Al spoke firmly, refusing to leave.
Mr. Gray issued a dull nod, jamming his card key into a slot at the glass door to let us in. The room was dry and warm, mimicking perfectly what I expected the desert felt like. I kicked my slippers off to the wall, wiggling my toes in the hot sand. I furrowed my eyebrows, watching Al lean down to pick up a handful of the gritty stuff.
“Where is this from?” Al asked curiously, letting the sand leak off of his palm before grabbing another handful.
“That’s not my department. You would have to ask Mr. Slate. As per the new rules Mr. Slate has implemented, I’m going to have to ask that you stay on the safe side of the glass, Mr. Waldreck. We don’t want a repeat of the fire-run incident,” Mr. Gray said snobbishly.
Al obliged, shoving his hands into his pockets as he exited the contained desert. I stood firmly in the middle of the room, awaiting instructions through the speaker system as I always did when Mr. Gray was in charge.
“Miss Dawson, today you will be simulating a sandstorm. We’ve enabled the heating system as your wind-source.” Mr. Gray’s voice was amplified through the speaker, clicking off momentarily as he gave various orders to the workers. “When you are ready.”
I smirked at the little red light on my Electro-Cuffs, feeling a sense of liberty rush over me. I raised my face toward the ceiling, allowing the slight wind to warm my body as it moved throughout the room. Air, for whatever reason, was the easiest for me to manipulate, and gave me an inspiring feeling of freedom.
I sighed, imagining my breath intertwining with the heated breeze. My hair blew as the breeze turned into a gust, brushing small bits of sand across my cheek. I pictured myself as a bird, soaring freely across the sky, wind flowing through my feathered wings. I smiled, lifting my arms from my sides as streams of sand glided through my widespread fingers. My eyes opened to witness the steady spiral of sand, swirling around me like a mild tornado.
The lab-run was going perfectly, until my eyes locked with Al’s on the other side of the glass pane. The same sensation which had possessed me during the ice lab, and the fire lab, overtook me; the familiar piercing between my eyes. All the control I had just moments before was lost, as I felt the energy build up inside me. A shout of pain burst from my throat, as the current rushed out my hands. It all seemed to happen so quickly.
Sand collided against my skin with hostility, cutting small scratches into my cheeks and hands like tiny knives. The ground beneath my feet rumbled and quaked, causing small cracks to spread throughout the dividing glass panel.
“Miss Dawson, I must ask you to cease immediately!” Mr. Gray’s shouts were drowned out by the gusts of wind.
‘You can control this,’ Al’s voice pushed itself into my thoughts. ‘Focus on stopping.’
I attempted to contain the energy that was emanating outward from my entire body, closing my eyes through the pain to imagine the room calming down. The only change I felt was the quakes below my feet worsening, causing scientists to stumble and machinery to spark.
Suddenly, the sand fell around me like rain, as the most excruciating charge of electricity pulsed through me, dropping me to my knees. I screamed in blinding agony, as my body violently convulsed. My vision went white as the current stopped, but I was not surrounded by the whiteness that protected me in my dreams; I was stuck in a limbo of pain where I could hear people talking and shuffling around me, but could only see blurry outlines and hues. ‘This must be what death feels like,’ I thought.
I felt myself being lifted, my head bobbing aggressively against something that felt not unlike an arm. I wondered if I was being carried up the stairs to heaven, which seemed unending.
“You’re going to be alright,” said
a voice, which I thought sounded familiar; soft and calm.
“Are you my angel?” I mumbled. The harder I tried to push my eyelids open, the heavier they felt.
“Not quite,” the voice chuckled, continuing its trek up the everlasting staircase.
Finally, our journey upwards leveled with the sound of a swinging door. I heard more shuffling and voices, as I was placed on something soft and cool. I felt my eyelids being pulled back, one after the other, the blurry whiteness temporarily growing brighter.
“Angela, can you hear me?” a new voice asked frantically.
“You’re a man?” I murmured, having always imagined that God was a woman… or a unicorn.
“It’s Nurse Davis. Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?” the voice asked, as a pressure started building on my upper arm.
“Nurse Davis? Are you in heaven too?” I questioned uncomprehendingly.
“Angela, you’re in the infirmary,” Nurse Davis stated, as the pressure relieved from my arm.
Slowly, the shapes surrounding me came into better focus. I squinted against the harsh light behind the outlines of, what I could finally see were, bodies. It felt as if I had been run over by a semi-truck, put through a clothes dryer, then severely electrocuted in the middle of an earthquake combined with a sandstorm. Every part of my body ached, my head throbbed, and my muscles spasmed as if they had developed a mind of their own. I blinked rapidly, trying to recognize the faces around me.
“Don’t try to get up,” Nurse Davis said quickly, as I attempted to push myself to my elbows.
I was finally able to distinguish a pair of icy blue eyes, which appeared to be saturated with worry. Al moved closer to me, gently gripping my hand. I stared in confusion, taking in my surroundings.
The earthquake hadn’t just damaged the glass pane on the thirtieth floor of The Facility. All the way up in the infirmary, debris littered the floor, and light fixtures drooped dangerously from the ceiling.
A steady stream of residents from all levels waited patiently in line with varying degrees of scratches, bruises, and bloody wounds. It took me a moment to realize they were all glaring at me; some in anger, others in panicky fear. For the entirety of my life, many residents of The Facility had been searching for a reason to hate me; it seemed they finally had the reason they so desperately desired.
“Hey… everything is going to be alright,” Al whispered soothingly, drawing my attention away from the crowd.
“Can one of you tell me what happened?” Nurse Davis asked, shining his little flashlight in my eyes.
“You people raised the voltage so high on her Electro-Cuffs, she’s lucky to be alive,” Al said, a distinct tone of malice coursing through his words.
“I was referring to the state of the building, Mr. Waldreck,” Nurse Davis stated, seeing Al’s malice, and raising him some spite. “Judging by that line of people over there, I’d say we’re all lucky to be alive.”
“I didn’t mean to—” I began, cut off by an unexpected outburst.
“I’ll tell you what happened! This young woman almost took down the entire Facility!” Mr. Gray exclaimed, holding his bloody arm as he pushed his way through the queue of injured people. “We have greatly underestimated her power! She is a danger to us all, and she ought to be destroyed!”
“Do you even hear yourself?!” Al shouted, standing up between me and the hostile man marching toward us. “You’re talking about destroying a human being!”
“If this thing is even human, she ought to be treated as a terrorist,” Mr. Gray said, eyes ablaze with hatred. “She is treated like royalty, and this is what happens!”
I felt a hot tear roll down my cheek, peeking over Al’s shoulder at the man who apparently wanted to murder me. Breath caught in my lungs, as I searched the terrified faces in the crowd. Nobody seemed to disagree with Mr. Gray; nobody, except Al.
Suddenly, the growing sea of injured people began to part, as a gurney was wheeled in by two gloomy-looking medics. A white, blood-soaked sheet covered the form of a body. The medics marched through the room, toward a set of morbid swinging doors. Before they could reach their destination, the sheet covering the corpse managed to wedge itself between the wheels of the gurney, causing it to drift to the floor in what felt like slow motion. I clasped my hand over my mouth to stifle the gasp, burying my face in Al’s arm.
There, on the gurney, pale and unmoving, was a ginger-haired man I recognized all too well.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
In Honor of Edward Stein