The Countdown (A Project 863-Inspired Story!)

Day 1/10

It's a "repost" but not really, because I don't have the original writing, so this will be my best reenactment ;)

Nov. 5, 2002/Nov. 15, 2002

I looked up at the gleaming Syntec sign above me on the building side, their job application held tightly in my fist.

I had done my best research on the Syntec company that I could, after their job-opening flyer appeared in my mail- well, on my doorstep at least. They were looking for someone willing to be paid volunteers in their experiments or an accountant.

At $250 per day, no benefits, it wasn't too far of a cry for me to want to work here. I'd heard that they were some kind of bio-tech company, but what harm could some biology do to me?

It's amazing how one can act so careless about something so critical. But that's how it all began.

I knocked on the glass doors, shielding my eyes to try and see inside. But I couldn't make out anything through the sun's glare.

A woman opened the door, eyeing me up and down suspiciously. "I'm here for an interview," I told her, holding out my portfolio for her.

She nodded, and I followed her inside. She pointed at the chairs, in what felt like a waiting room. "Mr. Nathaniel will come to talk to you shortly."

I nodded and sat down in a chair. I leaned forwards on my knees anxiously. I looked around at the white waiting room, just like a doctor's office.

After a few minutes, the door opened and a man with sleek 1990's glasses and dirty brown hair opened the door. I looked up at him. We held eye contact. "Rena Hoo?" he asked me. His eyes were a striking green.

I lifted my portfolio to indicate why I was here. He nodded at me. I stood up and followed him through the doorway and down a short white hallway, only to take a turn and find another short white hallway. I was having trouble staying focused and not getting lost.

He led me to a room on his left, pushing open the door, and I followed him quickly. It must have been his office. He sat down on a chair on the other side of the desk. I sat down in the chair in front of his desk, my back to the door.

I handed him my portfolio.

He flipped through my portfolio, which held my resume, cover letter, and job application, along with letters of recommendation. He stopped and looked up at me with a dazed expression. "You have all of this going for you, and you want to work here?!"

Now what kind of an interview question is that? "Yes." I told him. "I got the flier on my doorstep and thought that this would be a perfect job for me."

He shook his head ever so slightly and looked back at something in my portfolio. Then he looked at me. "Where did you work last, Rena Hoo?"

"I worked at a small grocery store, but after the fire about a month ago, I've had nowhere to work. I'd be open to either position, although I'd much prefer an accounting job." I explained, a bit dazed myself.

His eyes flicked to something behind me, and fingers grabbed neck.

I squirmed as much as I could, but the grip was too strong. As everything grew fuzzy, a voice whispered in my ear, "Remember to breathe, darling."

A shuddering breath made its way to my lungs as the attacker adjusted its grip on my neck. But then I couldn't breathe. And panic was filling my lungs. "You're not listening." and, "What's wrong? Remember to breathe."

I distantly remember falling to the floor.

Somewhere far away, I heard a conversation.

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER, DEBORAH!"

"Says you!"

"She was in an interview!"

"So what?"

"So now I have to find another accountant!"

"Better start working on that one then, Nathaniel!"

Then there was silence. I felt someone drop to the floor next to me as the ground shook.

I heard a sigh, and then, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Can you keep a secret?"

Can you keep a secret?