"Come along. As I was saying, this facility has been dedicated to researching the vampire phenomenon, seeking to understand the physiology and nature of the disease so as to best cure it. Can a therapy be developed? A vaccine? That's our goal. We've learned much these past few years, but I regret to say that no real advances have been made. The more we learn, the more baffled we become."
Wigner stopped before an elevator and pushed the button, turning to smile at her once more. "Now, you can imagine how excited we were when we heard of the mysterious properties your blood is purported to have. A genetic mutation, no doubt, that may hold the key to unlocking the most pressing enigma of our time. We have much, much to learn from you if the initial tests come back positive. This is going to be a very exciting time, Selah. Very exciting."
The brushed steel elevator doors opened and they all stepped inside. Selah stared sullenly at the floor buttons. There were eight of them. Four above ground, four below. That gave her pause. Wigner pressed the button for the second floor below ground, and with barely any acceleration, they began to drop.
"This is the perfect facility to test these claims. We're cleared to work with right up to Level 4 Biohazards, though of course, your blood isn't being considered a hazard at this time. Still, it's wonderful to have all the resources we might need right here at Thought Canyon. That's what we call the base, by the way. A little name I came up with. Thought Canyon. It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
Selah ignored him. She knew the tone of voice. He was talking to keep her quiet. Keep her soothed. He didn't care about her or her opinions. How many teachers had spoken to her in the same placating manner in the past? There was no point in engaging with him. He didn't see the girl. He only saw the blood coursing through her veins. Chilled and uneasy, she hugged herself and stared at the doors. Somehow, the fact that they were going underground only made things worse.
The doors opened and they were immediately assaulted by the sound of monkeys screeching. She blinked, surprised, and then looked up at Wigner who laughed warmly.
"Oh, don't worry, they're not loose. They get rowdy around lunch time, that's all. Come along."
They stepped out into a narrow hall that was lit with fluorescent lights, the walls composed of bright brushed steel partitions with huge windows embedded in them, their edges rimmed in black rubber. A spongy mat of linked blue rubber hexagons the size of quarters covered the linoleum floor. Selah slowed down and stared in through the windows to her right. She saw a large room whose walls were lined with cages. One set ran along the floor with the second row above them on a broad shelf. Chimpanzees, gibbons, baboons, small spider monkeys--it looked like every kind of primate was caged in there, staring out at her as she walked by. Some were anxious, gripping the bars and swaying back and forth, lips pulled back from yellowed incisors, eyes wide, while others lay curled on the floor of their cages, heads wrapped in a web of their long fingers.
"Necessary," said Wigner with judicious solemnity. "Still, they're well treated for all that. We run a very conscientious lab here. Come along."
Selah walked as slowly as she could, staring through each massive window as she passed. Two scientists were within, crouched before one of the cages and examining a chimpanzees where it lay. They turned to look at her as she passed. One was a young black woman, perhaps in her late thirties, her hair smooth and lustrous in the harsh lighting, the other a white man, his hair golden and his expression pensive and distant.
"I'm--I'm being kept with the monkeys?" That fact was only now sinking in.
"What? No! Not at all." Wigner laughed again in a hearty and unconvincing manner. Selah was beginning to really dislike his laugh. "On the same floor, yes, but you will soon discover that you're not alone here. The primates have their own wing, but you won't be sharing it with them. To think! No. You'll have a suite of your own. All very proper."
They reached an intersection and Selah saw a small black bubble affixed to the ceiling. Its surface was opaque and distorted their reflections as they passed beneath it. Security. This place had to be loaded with cameras, sensors, all kinds of gear. She felt her heart sink another inch. She'd probably be under constant surveillance.
"Now, your case is unique, and consequently, we don't have a truly private place to keep you. For now, you're going to be staying with six other individuals. Here we are."
They reached another heavy doorway. Two soldiers stood flanking the door, faces blank, eyes staring out into oblivion. When they snapped out their salutes, Selah flinched; it was like watching statues come to life. The Lieutenant Colonel returned the salutes carelessly and pressed his palm against a black pad in the wall. Then he leaned in to press his eyes to a set of black rubber goggles that were embedded in the wall. There was a harsh hum, a clang, and hidden locks snapped open.
They sounded like very serious locks.
"Now, this is where we house the test subjects for the Hybrid Project." Wigner smiled at Selah again. "This doesn't mean you're going to be entered into the project yourself, mind you. Just that there's a spare set of rooms in this wing that you can stay in while we run our own special little tests on you."
"Hybrid Project?" Selah felt a jolt run though her as if she'd brushed against a live wire.
Wigner gave her a funny look, but entered into a short hallway beyond lined with lockers that opened into a tiny square living room. Selah followed, all at once nervous, elated, terrified. She looked everywhere, tried to take everything in.
The freaking Hybrid Project.
She fought for calm, immediately determined to do whatever it took to make Wigner happy so that he'd tell her everything about the project.
I'm here. This is it,
she kept saying over and over in her mind. She stepped out into the small room at the end of the short hall. Two L-shaped couches lined the walls, facing each other across a coffee table. A man was lying on one of the couches, completely at ease. His legs were extended, ankles crossed, and his head was pillowed on one forearm. His skin was a soft golden hue, his hair rakish and brown with faint blonde highlights. He set down his Omni as they came in and pulled off his tethered Goggles as he sat up.
Selah choked back a cry and stumbled back.
His eyes were jet black.
Chapter 7
Selah backed into the stiff palm of the soldier behind her. The man on the couch was staring at her with amused contempt, his eyes gleaming pools of pitch in his handsome, arrogant face. He pulled the Goggles back on, dismissing them all, and lay back down.
"How? What?" Selah turned to Wigner, who was smiling uneasily.
"Our Hybrid Project, Selah. Very confidential. Very secret."
"You're making vampires?" She couldn't believe it. She stared at the man where he lay, ankles again crossed, hands laced behind his head, staring off into the depths of cyberspace, earplugs making the experience totally immersive. He looked as lithe and powerful and relaxed as a panther on a branch.
"Haha, well, no, not exactly. The operative word is
hybrid
, though I must admit there were some failed experiments during the first few years at controlled vampire creation. Never amounted to much, of course. The subjects failed to retain a moral framework which would ensure their loyalties... Anyway, never mind that now. Come along."
Wigner placed a hand lightly behind her shoulder and guided her through the small room to the other door, around the coffee table on which Omnis, a set of knitting needles embedded in a half-finished scarf, and a chessboard were set. Through the other door and into another small hall.
"No, you see, full vampire creation seems to require by necessity a degeneration of the frontal cortex, which is fascinating. There are parallels to transmissible spongiform encephalopathies--prion diseases, such as kuru. Are you familiar with that? No? Ah. Well, it's a form of neurodegenerative disease that targets specific areas of the brain. In the case of vampirism..."
They passed an open doorway that led into a sterile bathroom, the sinks and toilet stall partitions gleaming chrome. A solidly-built white man with a military haircut and black eyes was flossing before one of the mirrors, not stopping as he turned to regard them, mouth wide open. No fangs, Selah noticed. They passed on.
Wigner continued, "In the case of vampirism, it definitely isn't caused by misfolded proteins, though the end results have some similarities. Regardless, we believe the moral decay to be effected through biological degeneration, though, as of yet, the pathways are still not understood."
The hall hit a T-intersection, and Wigner led her to the left. There were six doors down the length of this short hall, three to a side and most of them closed. Name tags were set on each, Selah read them as they passed.
Tom Hoch. Gordon Castle. Lee Hyun-wook. Jennete Ruiz. Eric Van Holt.
The last door had no tag. It was this one that Wigner pushed open.
She peered inside. A narrow cot was pushed against one wall, a small steel-frame desk against the other with its chair tucked in beneath it. That was all. It was as bare as a cell.
"Yes, it is rather minimalist, but I suppose you could request a potted plant or something if you'd like. Or put up posters of your favorite ... musicians?"
Wigner was clearly hazarding a guess. He gestured, and Selah stepped inside and turned to stare at him.
"So," he continued. "I'm going to give you a little time to relax. Towels are available in the bathroom, and new, clean clothing will be made available to you shortly once I speak to the Quartermaster. What else. Toothbrush, toothpaste. Three meals are served daily. That about covers it. Some technicians will probably be fetching you soon for your first battery of tests. Nothing too arduous, I assure you. We'll probably just draw a little blood to start. Any questions?"
Selah didn't know where to begin. She stared around the blank gray walls, at the flat, hard-looking pallet, at the blank desk. "The Hybrid Project?" Was she going to be locked in here with vampires? It took all her will to keep her voice steady.
"Ah, yes! I got distracted with the history of the project." Wigner smiled. "We've been working on a serum derived from vampire blood, or, more accurately, from the drug popularly known as Blood Dust. A means of enhancing our best soldiers so that they may operate on the same playing field as the vampires. The men and women you will be living with are the test subjects for the first successful iteration we have produced. It's all really quite exciting."
"So ... they don't drink blood?"
"Drink blood?" Wigner paused, feigning shock, and then laughed. "No, good gracious me. Not at all. They eat normal food. They are normal human beings, or were. They are simply undergoing enhancement, is all. There is absolutely nothing to fear."
Selah shook her head. "You don't know what you're doing."
"Excuse me?" Wigner's smile slid down to half mast.
"You don't know what you're playing with." Selah smiled bitterly at him. "But you don't care what I say, right?"
"Ah. Well, take some time to rest and familiarize yourself with your quarters. It is now one-fifteen. You will probably be fetched by three. Very well? Very well."
Wigner gave her a stiff smile, hesitated, and then turned and walked away. The soldiers wheeled smartly and followed after. Selah moved to the cot and sat on it. It was actually quite comfortable, the thick green blanket a little scratchy, but made of thick wool, the mattress giving under her weight nicely. She spread her hands on the blanket and stared at nothing. An inescapable fact hit her: Wigner wouldn't have explained all this, all these top secret projects and secrets if he ever planned on letting her go. She felt a chill pass over her, goose bumps prickling down her back. She was here for good, along with the 'Hybrids' and the apes. Buried underground.
She heard footsteps approaching in the hall outside, and then the man from the bathroom appeared in her doorway. He had to be in his late thirties, his face broad and plain, his forearms thick when he crossed them over his barrel chest and leaned against the doorframe. He stared at her with his vampire eyes, studying her. She returned his gaze.
"New recruit?" His voice was low, his accent maybe from New Jersey.
"No. Maybe. Is that what they call prisoners around here?"
He shook his head, smiling. "Just about. What's your name?"
"Selah Brown. Yours?"
"Castle. Gordon Castle. You're a civilian. What are you doing here?"
Selah shook her head. She couldn't help but like him. He was blunt, but his tone was calm, confident. Vaguely amused by it all. "I've got special blood. They're going to be testing me while they figure out how it works."
"Special blood, ay? What, like a magic hemophiliac or something?"
Selah couldn't help it. She snorted with amusement. He smiled a little wider when she did so and she realized that he was actually trying to cheer her up. "No. Not like a magic hemophiliac. But close." She paused. Did she actually want to explain? Something about his square face, the subtle kindness to his expression pressed her on. "When vampires drink my blood, they feel human, develop human feelings for the rest of the night. And ... I get their powers. Or used to. It hasn't happened in awhile."
"No shit. You, uh, reconstruct their 'moralistic framework' or whatever?"
Selah fought down a smile again. "Yeah. Something like that."
"Well, sucks to be you, then. You ain't getting out of here until they've stuck you with more pins than a hedgehog's got needles."
"Yeah. I know." Selah looked down at her hands. She didn't want to think about the physical tests. The needles. Whatever else they were going to do to her. "What about you, Gordon? Why are you here?"
"I volunteered." He shook his head again. "Dumbest thing I ever did. There I was, living the dream, a life of comfort and ease as a Master Sargeant in the Navy SEALs. Then word was put around that they were looking for the best of the best to enter a top secret project. Highest service to your country, etcetera. Anyway, I thought it a good idea. Signed up. Passed the tests, got shipped here. Now, all I do is take injections, run on a treadmill while they monitor me, and try to not blow my brains out from the boredom. It's been a blast."