Captive

Chapter 36

Freddie examined the comatose specimen on the laboratory table. This new being, created in half its projected time, nearly resembled its original. It was the same height and the appropriate weight; the hair was correct, and the facial features precise. The only difference was miniscule yet still noticeable: When Freddie lifted the creature's eyelids, he found the irises to be different colors—neither the silver they were expected to be. The right eye was a deep shade of green, and the left blazed forth in opulent gold. It was enough to recognize, and though Freddie was unhappy with the miscalculation, he was relieved that the slight variation was the only physical abnormality. He was consumed, at greater length, by what mental deficiencies this creature may yet possess. There was still the possibility that brain development may have been compromised, and Freddie was also aware that if brain function were irregular, dumping Vincent's memories into a defective storage unit could result in misinformation or disorganization. Still, he had no choice but to take that risk.

The lab technician's phone pinged with a personal email notification. He pulled the phone from his white coat and tapped the screen several times to open the correspondence. The email sender was anonymous, but Freddie knew the attached image was the piece of information he was required to include with the memories to be transferred from the laptop to the creature's brain. He opened the attachment to find blueprints for the psychological research facility. He then walked to his computer, hooked his phone to a USB cable, and moved the image to the desktop. Freddie spent the next fifteen minutes coding the information and adding it to the appropriate brain file. It was nearly lunchtime before he was ready to move the stored data to the replica. He used his phone to text Regan, and let her know he would not be joining her for lunch that afternoon. Later, she magically appeared in the laboratory foyer with two takeout containers.

"I figured you wouldn't be joining me, so I thought I should bring you lunch," she chirped with a smile. "I hope you're okay with beef and broccoli."

"Sure. I haven't had Chinese in a while," Freddie replied. Regan set the containers on the desk before she walked over to the sleeping copy of her brother.

"He looks good."

"There's one difference. Well, two, I guess."

"What?" She asked as she circled the table.

Freddie rose and replied, "His eye color is incorrect. They should be silver." He lifted each eyelid. "Instead, we've got green and yellow."

"How did that happen?"

"I'm not sure." Freddie shook his head. "I'm not so worried about that. If we pop some colored contacts in there, we're fine. I'm more concerned about the brain."

Regan nodded. "I get it. If the ocular function is damaged, there's a possibility that there's brain damage too."

"Yes."

"Can't you test that? Didn't you build a machine for it?"

"No. I've never needed one. Then again, I've never had to speed up the growth process either." He turned away from her and went back to his desk where he opened his food container and plastic silverware.

"Don't worry," Regan replied as she glided toward him. "I'm sure it'll be all right."

"What if it isn't?"

Regan smiled. "It's not like it matters a whole lot now, does it?"

***

"Is she going to be okay?" Bridget asked Matthews through the wall.

"She had to be sedated and carried to her cell. She'll be fine," he replied. He was quiet, as if choosing his next comment carefully. "She put up quite a fight in that room."

"I don't blame her. I would've done the same."

"You did when you first got here."

"I didn't bite anyone." The captive felt it was important to point out the obvious.

"No, but I'm sure you would have if given the chance. You put this place on lockdown once or twice if my memory's correct."

Bridget scoffed. "Yeah, back when I had a reason to fight. That seems like such a long time ago. Now, I don't think there's hope for too much of anything." She paused. "He's going to kill me."

"I know." There was silence.

"That's all you have to say?" She craned her head and widened her eyes. "I can't believe you could be so complacent about that."

"You know I don't have a choice, Bridget."

She grew sarcastic. "Of course not. You're his employee. You need this job to pay for your college loans, so you're just going to follow orders and let him do whatever he pleases."

"It's not like that."

"What is it then? That's what it looks like to me as I stare when these walls."

His voice became low. "You know I can't answer that the way you want me to."

"Because you're afraid someone will hear."

"Yes. If Spencer found out that I wanted nothing more than to save you from this place, he would have me permanently removed."

Bridget sighed. "So now what?"

"We wait. Fate has a way of revealing itself at the right moment." The food slot opened, and a book appeared. The guard's voice grew stern. "This is the next book on your list to read. I suggest you start it immediately. At the very least, it will take your mind off things."

"You can be such an asshole, Officer Matthews," she squeaked. Fighting back tears was a skill that the young woman still had not mastered.

"I know. But please, just start reading the book. I have to go fill out some paperwork. Officer Hale will see that you have your supper." He stopped, and Bridget waited, hoping to hear him say that he loved her. Finally, he continued, "Have a good night, Miss Dunn." She did not respond but instead, listened as his footsteps drifted away. She picked up the book and looked at the cover of The Red Dragon, written by Thomas Harris. An irritated Bridget Dunn really had no desire to lose herself in a book she already read once when she was in college, but she stood, carried it to her bed, and opened it anyway. She began reading the text until she reached the thirteenth page where something odd caught her attention. Even with her glasses firmly sitting on her nose, she squinted to see the irregularity. Certain letters in the words on the page had been circled and then erased. As Bridget scanned the letters, her brain acknowledged their purpose. Letters formed morphemes that turned into words that spelled out a warning. I love you and be strong. Tomorrow I will free you from this place. Overwhelmed with both disbelief and relief, Bridget closed her eyes, sighed, and smiled.