Out of the Blue Part II: Into the Fray-Chapter 2

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Out of the Blue Part II: Into the Fray
By Drew Miller

Up until now, the lingering question has been, are there other's like Karen Shaw out there? Now, in chapter two, the reader will finally find out when Karen is transferred to a remote military base where she will be safe from the chaos that has descended upon the United States, indeed the rest of the world. But she may not be as safe as she initially perceives.


Chapter 2

Dusty eddies started to kick up as the helicopter neared the makeshift pad of crumbling concrete crisscrossed with opportunistic weeds.

I shielded my dry red eyes from the windswept stinging grains as a signaler guided it in. While it touched down, the officer came back over.

“I’ve got some good news Hicks,” he said. “Just a few moments ago, I was informed that we are understandably short on personnel where Miss Shaw is headed.”

Hicks screwed up his face a little before being enlightened.

“Congratulations, you’ve just been promoted…Captain Hicks.”

“Thank you sir. I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say you’ll look after her.”

He gave a firm salute. “Will do sir.”

While I’m sure Hicks thought about the new responsibilities he’d be taking on, a soldier walked over from the helicopter and saluted him.

“At ease,” said Hicks.

The soldier peered at me before his eyes met with Hicks once more. “She’s the asset?” he inquired, as if he’d just been served a meal that didn’t quite resemble the picture of a succulent entrée on a menu.

Hicks nodded and the soldier seemed to shrug off the disappointment he felt borne of my unremarkable disheveled appearance.

I crossed my arms and said, “Since this asset has no choice in the matter, I’d like to get this trip over with ASAP! We’re burning daylight and I’d like to be reunited with my boyfriend sooner rather than later.”

Hicks beamed a wide yet weary smile in response to my feistiness.

The soldier said, “Right this way Miss Shaw.”

“Might as well call me Eve,” I joked as we made our way toward the helicopter.

“I’m sorry?” he wondered, briefly glancing back at me.

He helped me into the helicopter and I shouted over the competing rotor noise. “Never mind. It’s classified. I’d tell you but…Well, you know.”

He simply smiled and nodded, taking his seat on the other side. Hicks sat down next to me and in no time flat, we were cruising through the air.

“God!” I exclaimed. “This place is a dump…literally!” While we passed over the landfill, I looked over to see if Hicks was appreciating any of my humor, but he was as pensive as ever. I decided to make some small talk anyway, just to keep me sane. “Even though I’d rather be going home, I have to admit, this is kind of exciting. I’ve never been a helicopter before.”

“Never would have pegged you for a thrill seeker,” he said, a half smile lighting up his face briefly. “But trust me, the excitement wears off after a while.”

“Hey Miss Shaw?” wondered another soldier sitting on the far side with the man who had been kind enough to help me in.

“Call me Karen. Miss Shaw feels kind of weird.”
“Yes maam…I mean Karen. Are you another scientist being transferred?”

I cut Hicks off just as he opened his mouth. “I’ve got this one,” I said. “I seem to be getting that a lot lately…Look, I can’t tell you much, but what I can tell you is that I’m no scientist. Trust me on that one.”

“Oh,” he said. “Just thought maybe you were a VIP ‘cause you might have knowledge about a cure.”

“It’s called a vaccine dummy, not a cure” said the other soldier.

“Well excuse the hell out of me for hoping someone had the answers to end this damn nightmare.”

He retreated to his corner and pulled out a picture, probably of his girlfriend, given how young he was.

“Hey Hicks?” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a picture of her?”

“My fiancée?”

I nodded. He pulled out a weathered one from his shirt pocket. He said, “I always carry this one with me when I’m on a mission. Good luck I guess.”

“Nice picture,” I said.

“Thanks. It was taken at her sister’s wedding.”

After the brief reminiscence, he frowned as he continued to stare at it. The rest of the short trip was full of silence.

~o~O~o~

We approached an airstrip and I could see some men scrambling around to get the hose from a tanker truck unhooked from what looked like a C-130 which was presumably our ride. We landed just as the tanker truck pulled away. I was hurried out only moments after we touched down and escorted the short distance across the shimmering tarmac to that impossibly large aircraft.

About three long hours later, we touched down on a runway that was shimmering even more than the one back on the east coast. I followed Hicks once more down the ramp and was greeted by a blast of hot dry air.

“Gee,” I commented as I turned my face toward Hicks. “My surroundings keep getting better and better!” I swear to God, if I couldn’t laugh, I’d cry. I looked around at the barren mountains in the distance rising out of the parched landscape.

Hicks used his hand as a makeshift hat brim and surveyed the desolate landscape. “Better than the landfill,” he said.

“I guess,” I said. “At least it’s a dry heat!”

After forcing a laugh, I shielded my eyes from the glare to get a better look at the vehicle that was heading our way. The approaching jeep slowed and stopped in front of the aircraft’s ramp and an MP got out with such a serious look on his face, that I felt as if he was about to arrest me after going AWOL.

“Sir,” he said, giving Hicks a more cursory salute as if to preserve his strength in this oven we had stepped into. Then he addressed me. “Miss Shaw,” he said in a more subdued tone. “Welcome.”

I found it strange he didn’t announce which base we had arrived at. The way he said it gave me the creeps, for it sounded like he was welcoming us to a funeral home.

“Hop in,” he said. “I know you’re anxious to get into the air conditioning.”

I put on a pair of sunglasses that he handed me and wiped the sweat from my brow as we sped toward the north gate. “Whew!” I said, playing the role of a tourist. “Is it always this hot?”

The MP chuckled. “You’re lucky to have arrived when you did. Today’s a cool day. Enjoy the respite.”

I said to Hicks, “I don’t think all of those guys along the perimeter are enjoying this respite.” Turning my attention back to the MP, I said, “By the way, is there always this much security?”

“No maam,” said the MP. “In light of the emergency confronting our country, it was deemed necessary.”

“But we’re out in the middle of nowhere,” I said. “I think the only things these soldiers will be keeping out are coyotes and the occasional roadrunner.” I looked at Hicks and smiled. “Meep-meep!” I finally managed to coax a genuine smile out of him during this mess, and it made me happier than I thought to see him crack a smile. But it faded during the short time it took for us to reach the gate.

We passed through the gate after a thorough security check involving mirrors, dogs, and scrutinizing double takes of badges, where once again, I was confronted with that curious searching look on the faces of the male guards when the MP showed them my ID. I was also equally curious regarding how quickly my ID had been created, as if I had been a visitor before and they had just pulled it out of a filing cabinet.

~o~O~o~

The inside of the base was as confusing as it was sprawling. It was like a maze with all of the intersecting corridors. I was escorted down one busy corridor after another where I was confronted with one curious look after another from all of the male personnel. I felt like the last woman on Earth the way they kept staring at me. It was understandable I guess considering that I didn’t see one other woman and because of the scenario playing out in this frightened country of ours far beyond the air conditioned halls and the perimeter of this mystery base I found myself roaming.

Finally, we arrived at a set of windowless double doors, where an older gentleman in a lab coat was waiting to greet us.

“Welcome,” he said, as if I had arrived at the check-in desk of a hotel.

I squinted my eyes while checked his name badge. “Hello…Dr. Brown,” I said with a degree of insincerity in my voice borne of a strange and vague sense of déjá  vu that I was suddenly experiencing.

Dr. Brown nervously cleared his throat as if I had called his bluff at the poker table. “I’m sure you’re understandably curious about why you’re here.”

“Yeah. I suppose,” I said nonchalantly. “I suppose it has something to do with Eve 2.0.”

“Indeed,” he said. He quickly averted his gaze from my searching hawk like eyes and swiped his badge. “After you Miss Shaw. Right this way.”

Dr. Brown continued on, walking backwards as he led me down the hall as if he were a tour guide or something. “Now that everyone has arrived, there will be a briefing later this afternoon where all of your questions will be answered.”

“That’s great,” I began, a hint of sarcasm in my voice. “But what I really need more than a briefing is a shower and some sleep if you don’t mind. I don’t know if you know, but I’ve been through quite a lot.” I crossed my arms and glared at him.

“Right,” he said. “I was getting to that. Just follow me and I’ll lead you to your room. I think you will find your accommodations satisfactory.

I followed him in past two more soldiers standing guard and past offices on either side of the narrower hall. We came to a t-intersection after a short walk where I was confronted by another windowless door similar to the one the Dr. had swiped his badge at, only this one had some kind of scanner mounted on the wall adjacent to it.

He motioned for me to make a left down a much wider corridor which gleamed under clean fluorescent lights. I started to hang a left, but I stopped mid turn to get one more look at that expensive looking door.

I inquired, “What exactly is beyond those doors?”

Dodging the question like a politician, he simply said, “All your questions will be answered soon Miss Shaw.”

Arms akimbo, something occurred to me. “Wait a minute? I get it now: the isolated location, all of the security and locked doors. Now I see what’s going on. You’ve got the virus in there, don’t you?” I shook my head even though he remained silent. “Jesus Christ! Did US scientists create the virus and then let it get loose? Wonderful. Just great! Tell them I said thanks.”

Instead of indulging me, he simply motioned with his arm and silently led the way.

I soon forgot about my righteous indignation as he escorted me down the long hall. We passed over a dozen rooms. There were placards affixed to each of the doors and all of the names were female. I felt a chill race down my spine.

Just after we passed by the first room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. I glanced back over my shoulder to the sight of an attractive looking younger brunette peering out the door before retreating back in after being confronted with the less than welcoming look of contempt no doubt still etched onto my face.

“Here we are Miss Shaw,” said Dr. Brown. “There are some books and magazines and the like over on the coffee table. If there’s anything you need, just use that phone over by the bed.” He glanced at his watch as if he needed a polite excuse to leave. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” I muttered.

The anger surging inside me when I was in his presence started dying down as I surveyed my accommodations, which were a far cry from the mental institution I was using as a pathetic benchmark for comparison.

I quickly became cognizant of the fact that it was irrelevant how nice my room was or how well they were going to treat me. Nothing would change the fact that I instinctively despised Dr. Brown. He was the focal point of all of my anger and frustration, and I’m sure there was a good reason why. I knew that no matter how many pleasantries he uttered or how many comforts of home he provided, I would at best only tolerate his presence.

I let out a deep sigh and found a seat. No sooner had I sat down that I heard a knocking on the door.

“Karen?” asked the young brunette that had caught a glimpse of me earlier.

I leaned back in my chair. “Yeah. I’ve been known to go by that alias from time to time.”

A light and inviting smile brushed across her face while she politely lingered. “May I come in?”

I simply nodded and pointed to the chair across from me. After she rested her delicate frame, I asked, “What’s your name hon?”

“Stephanie.”

“Any aliases?” I wondered, leaning in toward her.

She smiled a knowing smile before speaking. “I prefer to go by Stephanie now. I never did like my old name anyway.”

“Ahh,” I declared. “I had a feeling there were others. So, you’re one of the fortunate few to be a part of Project Eve 2.0.”

She nodded her head. “How much do you know about it?”

“Other than being an end of the world insurance policy, not much I’m afraid.”

“Do you think like they think that maybe we have some kind of immunity to the virus?”

“Quite possibly.”

“Well I hope I’m immune. And I hope you are too just like I hope the other girls are. It’d be a shame to go through everything I’ve gone through, just to um…”

Her voice trailed off. I agreed with her silence. I didn’t want to talk about the grim reaper paying a visit anymore than she did.

She gazed deeply into my eyes before speaking again. “What are you thinking about?”

“Well, I was thinking that perhaps I would have been better off where they first found me: on the streets.”

“You were homeless? God, I’m so sorry. That must have been really hard.”

“It’s okay. Seems like a lifetime ago anyway.”

“I know what you mean,” she said. “Not the homeless part. I was very unhappy for different reasons. When I was a junior in college, someone approached me shortly after a transgendered support group I had been going to since my sophomore year. I like can’t even begin to tell you how happy I was when they told me I met all the criteria and qualified for the experimental procedure.”

“Oh. So you wanted to become a woman.”

“For as long as I can remember.” She furrowed her brow before continuing on. “Did you? Have you always felt…different?”

“I shook my head. “I guess I felt okay in my own skin.” I drummed my fingers on my thigh. “Not that I’m complaining about the way I look now, but I wonder why they simply didn’t just choose people like you to perform the experiment on…No offense Stephanie.”

She shrugged her shoulders before replying. “None taken. Guess we’ll like find out soon enough during the briefing.”

“How much do you remember?” I asked.

“Most of the highs and lows; after all, it’s hard to forget something as life changing as what happened to us.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right,” I agreed, choosing wisely to omit all of the gaps in my memory to avoid one of those awkward, ‘oh you poor thing’ looks on her face.

Aside from being indistinguishable from the genetic female population at large, it seemed we had very, very, little in common. I rested my head in my hand and sighed at such a realization. Then, I automatically looked for a window to stare out of during the brief yet awkward silence that ensued; instead, my eyes landed on the plant in the corner.

Seeing that I needed some time alone, she forced a smile and got up. “It was nice meeting you Karen.”

“You too Stephanie. See you at the briefing.”

It was strange watching her leave. Her walk and her mannerisms, not to mention the color of her hair, reminded me of Alice and that made me very sad. I hated not knowing where Alice was or how she was doing as much as I hated being in this air conditioned prison.

I closed the door and collapsed on the couch. I was exhausted both mentally and physically. I would just have to shower later.

When another knock on my door roused me from my slumber, I don’t think there was that much improvement in my mood.

“Miss Shaw?” said a petite woman in scrubs.

“Come back later,” I said. “I’m still sleeping.”

“Sorry to bother you dear,” she said in the most soothing voice. “I just stopped by to let you know it’s four o’ clock and the briefing is in thirty minutes.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

I looked at the clock radio and scoffed. I realized that four thirty really didn’t mean that much to me since I still wasn’t sure exactly what time zone I was in. It felt later, and since I had that feeling where you know you’re not going to be able to get back to sleep, I forced myself out of bed and I walked into the surprisingly spacious bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face. I braced myself on the sink and let out a groan as I gazed at my reflection. I was in my mid-forties, but this time I really looked it for a change; now it was time to do something about that.

I had just finished getting dressed after taking one of the longest and most luxurious showers of my life when there was light rapping on the door. But instead of a soothing female voice, there was the gruff voice of a soldier.

“Briefing’s in five minutes Miss Shaw.”

“Coming,” I said. “Just give me a sec.”

I stepped outside and was escorted once more. I didn’t see any of the other women in the hallway; apparently, I was going to be the tardy one of the bunch. But I didn’t feel bad about it. Everyone had waited years to learn the truth, including me. A few more minutes wouldn’t kill them.

~o~O~o~

There was a lot of murmuring as I entered the conference room. I was keenly aware that all eyes were upon me. I’m sure they immediately recognized I was one of them by the plain clothes I had on: khakis and a white blouse.

It kind of felt like my first day of school as I searched for my only acquaintance and found a seat next to her. Stephanie greeted me with a smile before turning her attention back to the front of the room. I did as well, for there was one of those large screens like in a college classroom that had already been lowered. The projector above the first row of seats hummed away while it warmed up.

I turned my attention back to the women in the room and started counting. And then I counted again.

“Sixteen of us,” whispered Stephanie, like a college student during a lecture.

“Yep,” I agreed. “Sweet sixteen.” I couldn’t help but manage a smile.

The smile ran away from my face when that man strode in like a college professor and assumed his place in front of the lectern. “Good afternoon,” said Dr. Brown, his voice resonating in the chilly air. “Sorry to keep you all waiting.”

I looked over and noticed one of the more butch women sitting with her arms crossed. She shot him a withering stare before speaking in a southern drawl. “It’s about time. I’m tired of the run around. I heard tell of Project Eve after ya’ll scooped my ass off the street. What the hell is going on exactly?”

“Please,” said Dr. Brown with strained composure. “I’ll be more than happy to take all of your questions at the end of the presentation.” The murmuring subsided after he pressed his clicker and the title slide appeared. In bold pink letters, it read, “Project Eve 2.0.”

He began with a typical rhetorical question. “So what is Project Eve 2.0? To put it simply, you are. Ten years ago, the CIA received credible intelligence of a potential bioterrorist threat. It was learned that terrorists were enlisting the help of geneticists, virologists, and biologists to do the unthinkable: create and unleash a virus worse than aids, worse than ebola, worse than anything human kind has ever been exposed to in recorded history. Now, unfortunately, you and everyone else around the world know exactly what virus I’m talking about, a virus that targets just half of the population.” He cleared his throat and then continued on. “Five years ago, when it was realized that there was a strong enough possibility that the virus would be unleashed, the United States government assembled an international team of scientists to search for a defense. I am, as you no doubt have surmised, a member of this team. It became apparent early on that we had a problem on our hands. You see, we could never get our hands on a sample of the virus in order to develop a vaccine, so instead of pursuing the vaccine avenue, we came up with an ingenious solution. You are that solution borne of the team’s tireless efforts.” He flipped to the next slide. “This is the simplified version of how it works. Instead of inserting an additional X chromosome into the nucleus of each cell, a method was devised to transform the Y chromosome that each male cell carries into a kind of makeshift X chromosome, more or less, all the details of which are far too complicated to go into here…As you can see on the next slide, this genetic material is delivered via a modified virus and attached to the Y chromosome. Now one of the downsides of the procedure is that it has to be tailored to each individual’s unique genetic makeup, which is further complicated by the fact that not every male’s cellular makeup meets the general criteria for successful insertion of the virus. Thus, it is extremely expensive. Now you understand why there are only sixteen of you. The process of converting all of the millions of male cells in an individual’s body into female cells, and the accompanying physical changes that manifest themselves, i.e. a second puberty so to speak, takes anywhere from fourteen to eighteen months, assuming the procedure takes.”

“Assuming?” said the butch woman with quiet outrage. “Wait a minute now. What happens if the procedure doesn’t take?”

Dr. Brown frowned at his little slip that opened the door at such an early juncture. “Perhaps it’s best for me to wait until the end of the presentation to answer that.” He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“No,” said the woman defiantly. “I want to know now. She looked around at all of the questioning eyes and scared faces before fixing her eyes on him once more. “We want to know now. Right girls?”

Dr. Brown’s weary face was confronted with nodding heads all around the room. “Alright,” he relented. “I’m afraid there’s no way to sugar coat it. They…uh…most of them died later on.”

“How?” I asked.

“Cancer,” he said in a dispassionate tone. “That’s how the rejection manifested itself. But I can tell you they didn’t suffer.”

“Some consolation,” scoffed Stephanie.

“So basically,” I said, “We were God damned guinea pigs.”

“No,” said Dr. Brown quietly. “Guinea pigs don’t give consent. You all did.”

“I don’t remember giving consent,” asserted a pretty redhead.

“Me neither,” said another woman.

“I sure as hell don’t remember either,” said the butch woman.

“Yeah,” I chimed in. “What’s up with that?”

Aware that he had just fallen victim to the best laid plans, Dr. Brown just succumbed to the tide of outrage sweeping over him. “Look, there’s a reason some of you don’t remember. It’s not faulty recall do to the procedure. Depending on your circumstances, in the interests of national security, it was deemed necessary to administer to some of you a class of drugs originally developed to treat PTSD that inhibit recall.”

I think everyone collectively rolled their eyes when he mentioned national security, which was soon followed by louder murmuring.

“Once again,” he said. “You all gave consent. I know you don’t remember and think I’m lying to you now, but we didn’t administer the memory inhibitors without fully explaining the situation and obtaining your permission. In addition to the video interviews on disc, all of your consent forms and waivers are on file and freely available if you’d like to peruse them after the briefing.”

“Why?” I asked. “Why didn’t you just keep us at a government facility?”

“First of all, you weren’t prisoners. For all we knew, this attack might occur the next year, or ten years later…or never. All we knew was that there was a significant probability that warranted the actions we took. It was decided early on that you deserved some fair compensation, some semblance of a normal life.”

“Normal life?” I said with acid dripping from each word. “I ended up in a God damned mental hospital for almost a year. But I guess I should count my blessings. At least I was more fortunate than the woman who threw herself in front of that bus.”

Stephanie turned to me and whispered, “Suicide? Oh my God! Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I’m pretty damn sure. Just ask him.”

“That poor thing,” whispered another woman behind us.

One of the more mousy women spoke up just after everyone bowed their heads ever so slightly upon hearing of another victim on the front lines of the terrible war that was being fought. “J…J…Jesus. Su…su…suicide? How…How…m…m…many…” She paused a few seconds as much out of frustration as embarrassment I presume.

Dr. Brown bit his lip and stared at something on the back wall for a few moments before he spoke again. “I’m not at liberty to say, because honestly I don’t know. I didn’t ask. The project psychologists should know. You’ve already met one of them. I’m sure you all remember Dr. Donovan…Continuing on, now that we’ve gotten a good deal of the unpleasantness out of the way, please allow me to say a few more words before I take the rest of your questions.” Doing a cursory scan to make sure he did indeed have the floor, he continued on in a weary tone. “Later on this evening, the nurses are going to take some blood and tissue samples. We need to determine if you all have any immunity to the virus.” Anticipating the next logical question, he said, “And if you don’t, at least we’ll have a way to create enough women of breeding age to ensure the continuity of the human species when we finally develop a vaccine; after all, that’s the goal of this project: to prevent our extinction.”

“But what happens if you don’t have any immunity?” I wondered.

“Let me assure you that each and every one of you will be kept safe while a vaccine is developed if it is discovered that you don’t have any immunity. But I for one do hold out hope that you will have some kind of immunity.”

“Kept safe?” wondered one woman. “Kept prisoner is more like it,” she declared in a barely audible whisper.

I turned to Stephanie and frowned. “So much for getting out of here any time soon.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “But I’m not sure I would really want to. I’m really scared.”

I grasped her hand. “Me too hon. Me too. But be strong. We’ll get through this.” But I’m not sure who I was trying to convince, her or myself.

After Dr. Brown let the enormity of what had been said sink in, he took a sip of water and cleared his throat. “I think it’s time I turn things over to Dr. Donovan. She is more than ready to answer any remaining questions you may have.”

“Gee,” I whispered to Stephanie. “Just what we need, another shrink.”

“First of all,” said Dr. Donovan matter-of-factly in response to my barely veiled comment, “anyone who wishes to leave can leave now. Attendance is not mandatory; however, I feel it is in the best interests of your well being to stay and listen to what I have to say.”

She scanned the room noting which eyes were compliant and which weren’t before her eyes landed on me for only a split second. So I’m sure it came as no surprise when I got up and quietly stalked out of the room. I had heard enough. There was nothing more that could be said that was going to be able to set my mind at ease.

~o~O~o~

I gave a half wave to the other three women in the treatment room as I entered it, and they reciprocated with a half smile. I took my seat in the burgundy feaux leather chair and cradled my head in my hand.

“God this sucks,” I muttered.

I would have stared out a window to distract myself from the squeamish feeling in the pit of my stomach; however, my eyes landed on one of those ubiquitous Monet paintings, whose beauty was completely lost on me. At least the nurse was genuinely nice.

“Hello Karen,” said the thirty something woman. “My name’s Susan and I’ll be taking care of you.”

Her voice sounded vaguely familiar, like out of a dream. There was just something familiar about that soothing Boston accent.

Susan said, “I just need you to rest your forearm and place it elbow side down if you would please dear. I promise you I’ll be very quick and make this as painless as possible.”

“Sure,” I said, almost automatically. There was this implicit sense of trust almost as strong as that between Alice and I. “Do I know you? It’s just that I have the strangest feeling of déjá  vu.”

She simply smiled the most calming smile, easing the anxious beating of my heart at the sight of the needle that had just come into view. After giving me some reassurance, she slipped an elastic band around my arm and tightened it until it was borderline uncomfortable.

I instinctively winced and turned away as she brought the needle closer. God I was getting tired of needles! Tears started welling up and stung my dry and bloodshot eyes. But before a tear had a chance to trace its way down my makeup free face, Susan was loosening the elastic band.

“Wow!” I said, looking at the band-aid. “You’re fast.”

She smiled that smile again followed by a wink.

“Is that it?” I wondered.

“Mmm hmm,” she said. “For now.” She placed the vial in a small container.

“Now what?” I asked, leaning back in my chair.

“Now we wait and pray for the best.”

~o~O~o~

That evening, I understandably fell asleep early, but I didn’t stay asleep for long, for I had a terrible nightmare. I dreamed Alice was on the ledge of the last story of a tall building. Her calm face was nearly the color of the fresh coating of snow she was precariously standing on. I immediately started running toward her and yelled. “Don’t do it! Please don’t jump!” I cried. But it was like I was in slow motion. She looked at me and smiled before saying, “It’s okay Karen. Everything will be okay.” Then, she closed her eyes and gracefully dove off. Suddenly, I could run again as if freed from the temporal molasses I had been stuck in. I ran to the edge, but I awoke just before reaching the ledge, before I could see her limp body on the pristine snow covered street below in the deserted city of my dream.

I was soaked in sweat and sobbing uncontrollably upon waking. I felt disoriented in the darkness. I brought my knees in close to my body and began rocking myself on the bed, soothing myself like when I was a child. The simple reflexive act really seemed to help. I quickly became cognizant of my surroundings again and got my crying under control.

I felt that what I needed was some reassurance from my boyfriend followed by some cuddling and perhaps some chamomile tea; for now, I’d just have to settle for the company of a friend. It was an easy choice among the fifteen sympathetic ears up and down the hallway because as they say, proximity breeds friendship.

I gently knocked on Stephanie’s door. The meager amount of light seeping out from under the door brightened. Then the door opened slowly and quietly.

“Having trouble sleeping too?” inquired Stephanie.

I simply nodded.

“Well come on in. Mi casa es su casa.”

“Thanks.”

“Want some water? I don’t know about you, but like I’m really parched.”

“Please,” I said in a raspy voice.

She walked over to the small water cooler and poured us a couple of cups.

“Here you are,” she said.

“Thanks.”

While I studied the floor for a few moments, she asked, “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly, still averting my gaze.

“This place will like do it to you…Hey Karen? Do like think that once they’re finished with all of the testing and stuff, that we’ll be transferred to a nicer place than this?”

“I dunno. Maybe. But somehow I doubt it. I suspect that for everything they’ve told us about the project, they’re probably holding back at least twice as much. Even if we do get out, I mean what’s the point? It’s not like there’s some kind of normal life waiting for us out there anymore. That ship has sailed.”

“I guess you’re right, but I hope you’re wrong. Still, I wouldn’t even know how to begin picking up the pieces.” She looked thoughtful for a few moments while I continued to sip on my water. “Have you got anyone waiting for you on the outside?”

“A boyfriend,” I said quietly. “I’m sure he’s probably worried sick by now. They told me they’d contact him, but who knows if they’re telling the truth or not.” I shook my head before venting some more of my frustration. “After hearing so many lies, I don’t know what to believe. All I know is that I’m sick of this shit and I want to get the hell out of this place.”

“I know how you feel. I’m like going stir crazy around here.”

“I’ll tell you Stephanie, somehow, and some way, I need to find my way home, back to Baltimore. I’ve just got to find him and set his mind at ease. And I’ve got to find my friend Alice. I need to find out if she’s alive or…” My voice trailed off as images from my dream worked their way to the surface. “People need to know what’s going on here. The public deserves to know”

“So, like what should we do?”

I shook my head and stared through the clear liquid like an alcoholic seeking solace in the bottom of a shot glass. Then I leaned in towards her and whispered. “There’s someone who might be able to help. It’s a long shot, but I have a feeling we can trust him. We just need to find a way to contact him.”

In an equally cautious tone of voice, she suggested, “What about Susan? I don’t know about you, but I like get this feeling that like she’s about as fed up with this project as all of us.”

“Maybe. I know Donovan sure as hell doesn’t care. I don’t trust that woman any farther than I can throw her skinny butt.”

“So who is it going to be? Do you want to try and talk to her, or like should I?”

“Well, I do get this feeling that we go back a ways, that she knows me pretty well, which means all I need to do is find the right time to talk to her.”

“How about this: you could slip her a note.”

“That might work, but if she talks then…”

“Seems to me like it’s worth the risk. This may be like the only opportunity that we get.”

“Possibly.”

Stephanie managed a wry smile. “After all, like what can they like do to us? Lock us up?”

We both managed a laugh at the depressing truth.

“Alright,” I said. “What the hell. Let’s do it!”

Stephanie looked thoughtful for a few moments. “Do you think like we should tell the other girls about what we’re doing?”

I furrowed my brow and shook my head. “No. Definitely not.” I motioned with my paranoid eyes to the ceiling a couple of times.

It finally dawned on Stephanie. “Ohh. Right. I didn’t think of that, but you’re probably right…Okay Karen, here’s like what I think we should do. I’ll go ahead and write the note and hand it to her. I’ve like been known to write a persuasive argument or two now and then.”

“Better you than me,” I said with a smile.

“Good. Now all I need you to do is to give me the name of the person you feel we can trust.”

I “accidentally” dropped my cup on the floor and knelt down to pick it up.

“I’ll get a paper towel,” said Stephanie.

She kneeled down by my side to help, during which time, I whispered, “Captain Hicks. That’s the guy I was telling you about.”

She acknowledged me with a most subtle nod of her head. After she did, I rose up and smiled. In a loud voice with deliberate annunciation intended for public consumption, I said, “Thanks Stephanie for being up and talking to me for a while.”

“Any time Karen. Any time. Good night.”

I headed to my room, clinging to my new found shred of hope.

~o~O~o~

A few days later…It was déjá  vu all over again as I sat in the treatment room. I scanned the room and then looked at the clock on the wall. I kept waiting for a couple of girls to come shuffling in at the last minute and fill the two empty chairs in the sterile room, but only nurse Susan came walking in.

I turned to her and smiled, but my gesture seemed to be lost on her. Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning something of weighty importance on the screen of the tablet computer she was holding. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be good news because a somber expression overshadowed her normally calm demeanor. The somber expression evolved into one of worry, sending a chill down my spine.

She set the tablet down and the glow emanating from it was replaced by the glow of her labored smile.

“Good afternoon Karen,” she said.

“Afternoon,” I said, noting every ounce of barely veiled tension on her face. I looked around once more. “So where are the other girls today? Don’t tell me you gave them the day off. If you did, I’m going to be very jealous.” I crossed my arms in mock offense.

She let out a nervous laugh before shaking her head. “I was told they were transferred.”

“Why’s that?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible.

“Dr. Brown’s orders.”

“Okay. But where to?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Not at liberty to say? You mean you don’t know.”

“Karen, please. Don’t ask me any more questions,” she said with strained composure. “I’m very busy today and I know you want to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

Great! Now she was starting to sound like Dr. Brown, and for a split second, I wondered if I could trust her. “Right,” I said. “Assume the position. I know the drill.”

I looked away as she drew some more blood.

Afterwards, I scrutinized her every move. Today, it seemed, she was going through the motions like some kind of automaton. She had this drained expression on her face characteristic of the soldier that has been on the front lines for far too long, finally losing that last shred of innocent naivety. Her burden seemed almost as weighty as Alice’s, and I realized now was the moment of opportunity in light of how conflicted she appeared to be.

“Whoa!” I said as I stood up, feigning dizziness. “Maybe I stood up a little too quick.”

She rushed over and I made sure to deliver an Oscar worthy performance. I stumbled into her like a drunk.

“It’s okay Karen. I’ve got you hon.”

While she had both arms wrapped around me, I kept my left hand braced on the arm of the chair, and with my free hand, I placed the note in her left pocket. I fought hard to suppress a smile at my impromptu ingenuity while she helped ease me into my chair.

“You just rest for a bit Karen. Okay?”

I nodded. Glancing at the container carrying the vial of blood that was now out of sight and out of mind, I said, “I don’t know what happened. Must have caught a glimpse of my own blood.”

“Looks like we can cross nursing off the list of possible second careers for you.”

We both smiled.

“Tell you what,” she said. “Why don’t I go ahead and run this over to the lab. Then I’ll walk you back to your room. Okay?”

“Sounds good,” I said.

When she returned about ten minutes later, she asked, “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine now.”

“Good. Now go ahead and slowly stand up for me, but if you feel dizzy in the slightest at any time, just let me know.”

“So far so good,” I said, lifting myself up out of the chair.

We didn’t talk much as she escorted me down the hall. The awkward silence lingered as we stood in front of my door. Almost without thinking, I leaned in and gave her a hug. I replied to her searching eyes with a smile. “You just looked like you needed one.”

“Thanks,” she said. “But I’m not so sure if I’m that deserving of a hug right now.”

“It doesn’t matter. I know you’re a good person just like my good friend Alice. If I was in a bind, I know you’d come through for me.”

She opened her mouth as if to confess something; instead, she averted her gaze briefly before turning away. The slow clicking of her heels faded after she disappeared down a corridor that led to a door that I was denied access to.

~o~O~o~

All I could do was wait. I nervously waited in my room all by myself as seconds ticked by like minutes. I knew there were two possibilities: she had read the note, torn it up, and decided in the interests of self preservation that silence was the best response, or somehow she had gotten word to Hicks to enlist his help. Maybe they were formulating a plan as I waited, or maybe they’d been caught. Now I was really starting to get paranoid. Perhaps the whole conspiracy had been nipped in the bud because Big Brother was watching. I shuddered as I thought of what the repercussions might be, not for me, but for them.

Tired of pacing around my room after over twenty-four hours of nearly sleepless waiting, I picked up the phone. I was pretty sure it was an act of futility, but I needed some kind of distraction, and bitching someone out would perhaps relieve some of my tension.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” I asked, my voice surging into shrill territory as intensely as the blood was surging in my hot veins. “No. No. No! I’m tired of being given the run around. I’m tired of this crap! I don’t want to hear we’re working on it, or he’s very busy, or call back later! I’m a Goddamned citizen of this country and I have rights that shouldn’t just be swept aside because of the tired old national security argument.” After composing myself for a few moments, in a gentler tone, I said, “Please, just do me a favor. Just give me an outside line. How hard is that? Huh? I mean honestly, it’s not like I’m going to compromise national security. I don’t even know which time zone I’m in. All I want to do is tell my boyfriend that I’m alive and well, that I’m safe and he doesn’t need to worry. That’s it…Uh huh…Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be…Thanks for your help!” I shouted into the receiver before slamming it down.

Now I was all worked up. The adrenaline was really surging and I just couldn’t get my breathing under control. I hadn’t felt this angry since I had testosterone flowing through my body.

“I hate this fucking place!” I stomped over to the corner. “I hate this stupid fake ficus.” I kicked it and searched for something else to bear the brunt of my surplus rage. “I hate this painting! I hate these walls! And…And…” I glanced down. “I hate these clothes. I look like a fucking mental patient.”

After my little episode of “sound and fury signifying nothing,” I finally settled down and forced a laugh. I realized my rage was as righteous and necessary as it was impotent. I think that’s why I gave the finger to the imagined location of the camera that I was sure was in the room.

I sighed before lying down on the bed face down like a grounded and bored teenager. It took me a while, but my warm rage finally subsided and I finally got my breathing and heart rate back to normal.

I dragged my cool and defeated body out of bed and moseyed on down the hall. I figured maybe I’d shoot the shit with Stephanie for a while.

“What the hell?” I wondered. I was confronted with an empty room that should have had a sullen occupant whose face perhaps would light up a little at the sight of her older friend. I scanned her door, but her name tag was gone, just like the others.

“Great,” I said, leaning against the wall. “Twelve down and only four more to go.

I felt like I was in Nazi Germany. They had probably grabbed her when I was having my blood drawn and I had this feeling that maybe they’d come for me in the night. Perhaps they’d come tonight and do God only knows what else to this consenting Guinea Pig.

I returned to my room and sunk in my chair, thoroughly dejected. I hadn’t felt this frightened or scared since that morning when I first woke up as a woman. It didn’t seem that there was going to be any help coming to rescue this damsel in distress.

When I came to that realization, it was late afternoon and I was exhausted. I lost the battle and drifted off to sleep.

A gentle tapping on my shoulder roused me from my slumber.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s you Susan.”

“Thought I’d check on you to see how you’re feeling.”

“Thanks. That was nice of you.”

“I brought your dinner as well since I was in the neighborhood.” She motioned with her head toward the coffee table.

“Thanks, but I’m not very hungry right now.”

“Make sure you eat,” she quietly insisted. “It’s important that you keep your strength up. You’ll need it.” The way she emphasized the words of that sentence sent a chill down my spine. Next, she glanced over at the water cooler. “And make sure you stay hydrated. It’s easy to build up a deficit as dry as it is in here, nearly as dry as it is out in that heat.” She motioned with her eyes toward the exterior wall.

I furrowed my brow. It didn’t take a woman’s intuition to figure out that something was about to go down. The way she emphasized the phrase “you’ll need it” and the word “heat,” stirred my blood with hopeful anticipation.

She smiled as I digested what she said. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the little girl’s room before I leave. I don’t seem to be feeling very well as of late.”

The bathroom door closed, and I lifted the top off the warm tray sitting on the coffee table. I thought back on her earlier comments. Then, I reluctantly dug in and ate the mashed potatoes, ambivalent about the dry meat loaf next to them.

When the door opened, I was sipping on my second cup of water. Susan walked over.

“I left the fan on.” Then she advised, “Don’t go in there for a while.” I found it strange that there wasn’t any hint of veiled embarrassment on her face. She turned to walk out, but she lingered for a bit. “I almost forgot. I know how much you like the meat loaf around here. Here’s some salt and pepper packets as well as some ketchup.”

I reached to grab them from her outstretched hand. As I did so, a couple of packets slipped out of her hand.

I said, “Let me help you with those.” I bent down until my head was level with hers.

She whispered, “Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me. Good luck Karen.” Before I could thank her, she stood up, smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “Clumsy me. Must be Carpel Tunnel syndrome. Good night.”

“Good night,” I said, wondering if this was the last pleasantry we were going to exchange.

I forced myself to slowly eat my food, all the while trying not to look suspicious by constantly staring at the bathroom door. But the fan on the other side was beckoning me.

I suddenly felt like I was being watched. I was afraid that one move or gesture would tip off the eyes on the other side of the camera in the room, whose existence Susan confirmed with her subtle and cautious behavior. I knew I had to be equally cautious; in fact, I was so cautious that I waited until I felt the urge to go after downing my third cup of water like a shot. I erred on the side of being a poor actor.

I leisurely shuffled in and turned off the fan. Before I sat down, I noticed only the cardboard cylinder remained on the toilet paper holder, which was very odd considering I recalled there being a fair amount after my last visit.

It was now obvious that Susan had gone in to leave something other than the usual deposit, but where was it? What was it? I didn’t see anything after a cursory inspection.

I reached for the roll on top of the tank. A glimmer from the shadowy cylinder caught my eye. I stole a glance. It looked like a needle, but it was wrapped in something. I angled the roll and placed my hand on the bottom to prevent the item from slipping out. With my other hand, I grasped the other end and was very careful to let it slide out into my right hand. Since old tricks are usually the best tricks, I “let” the roll slip out of my hand. I picked it up, and while I did, I slipped the item into my pocket.

I breathed a double sigh of relief when I was finally able to sit down.

Now that I had found what she wanted me to find, I pondered what role this small item could possibly play in my grand escape.

Afraid to go back into the bathroom to get a better look at it for fear of a possible camera, I just sat nervously waiting for the right time, and right before bed seemed like the right time.
I usually read a little in bed to help me get sleepy, so I grabbed a book along with one of those LED book lights they were kind enough to provide me with and slipped under the covers.

I pretended to read for a while before I felt the ruse was being bought. Then, I fished out the needle from under the covers. After pretending to scratch my leg, I scratched my curiosity when I gently held it against the page with my left thumb. The dim yet revealing light didn’t show any volume ticks on the syringe. It appeared to be wrapped in ordinary paper, joined in the middle by a piece of scotch tape, apparent only when my finger glided over the area like a smooth speed bump on the otherwise rough paper.

I brought my knees closer to my chest and placed the book on my lap. After carefully removing the tape, I unrolled the crisp paper and leaned in closer to resolve letters that were slightly smaller than those on the pages of the book. I may have been able to just barely resolve the letters, but I had a hard time wrapping my mind around the sentences.

“Is she kidding?” I muttered.

I crumpled up the paper and placed it, along with the syringe, back in my pocket. Then, I set my book down and turned off the LED.

I placed my hands behind my head for a while, thinking through the risky first step of the plan. The thought of injecting myself made my heart race and my stomach churn, but then again, the thought of suffering the mysterious fate of the other women made my heart race as well; thus, it wasn’t too long until desperation won out over the uncertainty of the outcome and solved the dilemma for me.

Even though there was close to zero probability that I might drift off, I sat in the chair anyway. I wasn’t going to take any chances. I only had one shot at this. We only had one shot at this: Hicks, Susan, and I.

After an interminable wait, the appointed hour of 12:30am came. I slipped back under the covers once more and fought back tears as the needle tore a hole. I depressed the plunger. I barely managed to stuff the evidence between the mattress and box spring before I blacked out. I was floating in the darkness once more.


To Be Continued...

If you enjoyed my story, please leave a kudo or feel free to comment. Comments, no matter how brief, are very much appreciated. Also, I welcome any constructive criticism to help improve my writing. So don't be shy! Feel free to send me a PM with your ideas and suggestions.~Drew

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Comments

Good Story.

The opening salvo of 'Out of the Blue' chapter one had me thinking back to a Herbert story called The White Plague Different storyline but equally difficult conditions at the start.

The long time between the first chapter and this one caused me to go back and re-read the first just to refresh my memory.

Thank you,

I'll continue to look for successive chapters.

A.