Labyrinth of White - The Moon Trilogy - Book #1

Chapter twenty-eight:

Alex tried not to think too hard about where he was, or how much danger they were all in. They were almost done, and then they could get out and never have to have anything to do with the Organization again.

However, the simple fact that he was with other people made the situation that much worse. He didn't know exactly how, but he felt sure that if anything bad happened, it would somehow be his fault.

They were on their way to the "main lab" as Clara had put it. Clarity and Rachel had been sent with him. They'd received brief and hurried instructions on what exactly they were supposed to do, but Alex still felt pretty lost. He had no clue why they chose him to be the one to get the telepath and remove all the fancy wiring. He was probably the dumbest one there.

But he had to at least act like he knew what he was doing, and thanks to the dimmest traces of memory from his evil twin self, he was able to appear that way. They were able to make it to the lab without much trouble, and they strangely didn't meet anyone.

The main lab certainly lived up to its name. It was huge and had clearly been a very central hub of activity. Tools and equipment were lined up neatly on metal tables. As usual, the walls were white. Huge lights spanned across the ceiling, making everything so bright it glowed.

He scanned the room until he found what he was looking for. The glass tank with the telepath inside, just as it had been described. For a brief moment, he pondered the reason for the tank, but time was running out, and he had no brain power to divert into wanderings of the mind. He half-ran/half-walked to the tank.

He searched for a solid three minutes before he found the button that would drain the tank, and even after he pressed it, the water moved agonizingly slow. It seemed to hardly inch down the inside of the tank.

Then the faint sound of the doorknob clicking turned his blood to ice and he spun around, ready to attack. In the doorway, preoccupied with a clipboard, was a man. He was dressed in a white lab coat and his balding head was tinged with gray.

Before the man could look up, and before Alex even had a chance to think of a solution, there was wet thump. A dark red stain crept through the white lab coat where the silver handle of a surgical knife was almost fully embedded.

The man looked up at them, then down at his chest, his eyes blank. He wobbled a little before he coughed, and blood spurted down his chin. The movement was the final thing he needed before he thunked to his knees and then fell flat on his face.

He lay there, unmoving, until Rachel grabbed him by the arms and dragged him through the door, which was able to swing shut now that the doorway was vacant.

Alex realized he'd been staring, and he shook his head. He had to focus. So he turned back to the tank to check the water's progress, hoping that it would speed up as it went. But there was no such luck. In fact, he could hardly even detect the change.

He tapped his fingers against his thigh impatiently. This would never work. It was taking far too long. They could be done with their mission and out of there before the stupid tank had a chance to empty.

He broke his gaze away from the water, scanning the room for anything he could use to break the tank open. He would just open the hatch, but it was in deadlock-mode until the water was completely drained. If he'd been Sam, he could have hacked his way around that for sure, but he wasn't Sam.

So he found himself a sturdy-looking crutch and returned to the tank, raising it over his head in preparation for a swing. He paused there for just a second before bringing it down as hard as he could.

Other than a dull clang and a gentle ripple that spread across the surface of the water, nothing happened. He swung again.

This time, a tiny crack appeared.

He swung again and the crutch crumpled into two parts.

He threw it down with a sigh and searched for something else. There had to be something.

Before he could even start searching, however, Rachel walked over to the tank. She looked at it for a second, and he couldn't help but think she was scrutinizing the ridiculously tiny crack he'd made. Then she wound her fist back as if she was going to punch the tank.

He almost felt like laughing. If the crutch couldn't crack the tank, why did Rachel think that she could do it with her fist?

Rachel let her fist fly into the glass after just a second's pause. There was a muted clang, followed by a split second of silence. All at once, the glass cracked. Tiny fractures spread out like roots from the spot, and drips of water started forcing their way through.

Rachel swung again without a single moment of hesitation and this time, the glass shattered. Water exploded from the hole and swept out over the floor. Shards of glass went flying.

Alex couldn't bring himself to say anything. It was impossible, and a quick glance in Clarity's direction said that she thought the same.

Alex shook himself out of his stupor. The longer they stayed there, the riskier it got. If they wanted to get out alive, they would have to move quickly.

He brushed as much of the jagged glass away from the edge of the hole as he could, and when he was satisfied that the edge wasn't dangerous anymore, he pulled the telepath through.

Rachel helped get the telepath onto one of the metal tables. Wires stuck out of his head and now-bare chest. He was still wearing the bottom half of his strange, wetsuit-like attire.

He didn't let himself get caught up on details, though, so he only had a second to take it in before he was hurrying to follow Clara's vague instructions. He found the tools that had been described and started removing the wires. He went as quickly as he could without causing too much damage.

The wires had needles on the ends that were definitely long enough to have gone through the skull and into the brain. Alex tried to ignore that.

The wounds that Alex was opening were hardly bleeding, which wasn't such a good sign, but once again, he tried to ignore it and focus on the task at hand.

There was a steadily-growing pile of wires at his feet, and a collection of holes in the telepath's head to match. The dark wounds were a sharp contrast to the sickly, pale skin.

Once he'd pried every wire loose and discarded it onto the floor, he moved on to the next stage. He certainly hoped he was doing this right because he had no clue if this step was supposed to come first or last... but it was too late now.

He dug through the various shelves and cabinets. When he found what he was looking for, he double-checked the label of the small vial to the slip of paper that Clara had given him. The names matched. He had no idea how to pronounce them, or what it was supposed to do, but the names matched, and that's all he needed to know.

He grabbed a syringe from a different drawer and filled with the almost-yellow liquid from the tiny vial in his hand. When he returned to the telepath with the full syringe, Clarity was giving him a doubtful look.

He shrugged in reply. He didn't think it would work either, but there was nothing else to do but hope that it would work, so he stuck the syringe into the telepath's shoulder.