Part 4: Chapter 38

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Winter's first instinct was to retrieve Jackson from the stairwell. But as Phil leaned into her tensed arms and shoulders, even trying to subtly place an arm around her upper back, she thought better of it. Just getting the job done as quickly as possible was the priority.

"Which way?" She asked Phil anxiously. He seemed so cagey. It was hard to imagine that this man was once someone years ago she had planned her entire life around. Under the strain of transparent glass and stress induced appetite suppression, he seemed a shadow of his former confidence.

"Umh, umh." Philip seemed hesitant.

"Phil," Winter said more softly, pulling him gently into her chest as she walked. "We need to get to the server room, please, which way."

He pointed to a door 30 feet down the corridor with a shaking finger. Arriving in front of it, Winter hesitated. The door itself looked like a vault entrance. No labelling, pure steel with zero cracks surrounding its frame. As though it were designed to keep whatever was inside, on that side of the wall. It looked airtight, designed almost like a vacuum sealed exit.

"You sure?" Winter asked. Phil gulped. And nodded slightly. Something didn't feel right but what choice did she have. She tried a final threat.
"I'm leaving you here, no escape ever if you're lying to me. I'm asking one last time. This is the way to the server room? Yes or No." Winter extended her arm out slightly so that Phil was hovering in air away from her body, no contact, as he lifted his eyes up to hers.

"Yes." Phil said definitively, softly.

Scanning Emilia's keycard pessimistically, she was surprised to hear the electronic ding of the green light snapping on. There was a compressed slight pop and the sound of air being released like unpacking a vacuum sealed container. The door itself, as she pried it open, was heavy and tightly spring loaded. Faint lights overhead in the room calmly illuminated only several feet of ceiling, it was difficult to tell, aside from a very faint buzz inside, what the room contained. Winter stepped in still holding Phil on a forearm, and the door softly closed with a faint suction sound behind her.

Trying to get her bearings, Winter set Philip down on the ground. "Where's a switch?" She asked him as she groped the door and walls they had just walked through. Silence. "Phil?"

Lights came on in rhythmic sequence. At first the light against a far wall to Winter's right, and then cascading down the room like fancy IMAX lighting. As her eyes quickly followed the lights above, she saw a man just to her left out of the corner of her eye. Shooting a glance, she turned pale. Jackson.

"Jack!!!" She yelled taking a step towards him. He stood unmoving. She could see his eyes shifting but nothing else. Glancing back to her right, she saw Philip, still huddled on the ground close to where she'd dropped him. Confused and terrified, Winter looked towards the middle of the room where a woman stood. A shiny glass device in one hand, her other hand on her hip.

Winter opened her mouth to speak but she couldn't mouth a word. Attempting to twist her head and take a lunge forward, she found her body unresponsive. Now with eyes fixed on the woman, Winter recognized her. Emilia. Without question.

"Ok, count me impressed." Emilia said to Philip on the ground. "You always said it would work but boy, pretty smooth interface, you pulled it off." The woman took several strides towards Winter, carefully analyzing her frozen state as she did so. "She's still all there, right Phil?" She asked. "It seems that way, I can... yes... I can see her pupils are shifting."

"Ye... yes." Philip said softly from the floor. "Its, it, it, it's a motion con-con-control function."

"Good grief Phil, pull yourself together. You did well, relax. Catch your breath, pull yourself together, now Phil, what are you trying to say dear?" The woman said gently. Standing firm in heels, a soft off-white blouse and a sharp knee length skirt, Emilia cut a commanding presence. She was unreasonably well endowed and if her face was an indication, some of her figure was creditable to some surgical work. Perhaps early 40s, her arms betrayed an exceptionally active lifestyle. Not exactly imposing, but defined and sinewed.

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