Overcome with the urge to flee and to flee now, you break free of Jillian and make a bolt for the door. You are halfway across the room before she even has time to react.
“Mark,” she calls out. “Mark, wait.”
You skid to a halt by the door, your feet slipping on the hard surface of the lab floor. You open the door, sticking your head out to check if anyone else is around. The corridor is empty, clear in both directions. Unfortunately, your lab is at the far end of the corridor from the elevator, a good seventy metres or so. And that’s past another two labs too. Even the emergency stairs are about twenty metres in the other direction.
You can’t run that distance, not without attracting attention. The lab walls are large plate glass windows. Most of the researchers have put up blinds or screens for their privacy. While that would obscure you from sight, it’s highly likely they’d still see a shadow passing by. Running would only make it more likely that they spot that shadow out the corner of their eyes.
You jam the door behind you, somehow managing to snap off the handle. You always thought they were poorly made. Dropping to your hands and knees you start to shuffle along the corridor to the lift. You pass Dr Ingawa’s lab, ignoring the rattling of the door from behind you. Ingawa’s doing some sort of research into genetically modified crops. The man spends all day watching plants grow, he’d probably come chasing after you if he saw you just for the excitement.
The next lab is supposed to be empty, awaiting some hotshot from Europe to clear immigration. It shouldn’t be a problem to get past, except that you overhear a conversation inside as you shimmy by. Since the lab is sealed and no one should be able to get inside, you find that strange. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you stop to listen in.
“… completely isolated,” says a first voice, a man’s – deep and smooth. It sounds familiar, but is muffled the wall. You can’t quite place it.
“Hermetically sealed,” replies a second voice, also a man – raspy this time. “Nothing gets in or out unless you want it to.”
“You read the papers I supplied,” interrupts the first voice impatiently. “You know what we’re likely to be dealing with. Is it proof against that?”
“Absolutely,” says the second voice confidently. “I’ve made several modifications myself to account for the spectrum of possibilities you outlined. And the previous case as well, of course.”
“Good,” says the first voice. “Good. I take it you were discreet? I don’t want Lord finding out about this.
Lord who, you think. Maybe it’s something to do with the guy from Europe they’re expecting? They still have lords over there, don’t they?
“He knows nothing,” says the second voice. “You want to proceed with the lab seventeen accident?”
“Yes, next week at the latest. I…” the man stops mid sentence. It sounds like his mobile has gone off. “Ah, excuse me for a moment…”
Lab seventeen is your lab, the one you share with Jillian. Whatever these guys are planning, whoever they are, it involves you. You don’t want to stick around any longer than you have to. Jillian can look after herself. No, that’s not fair: You’ll warn her when you get the chance, but right now your priority is getting out. You crawl the last few metres to the elevators and hammer the call button.
The doors slide open after a minute or so and luckily the car is empty. Pulling yourself back to your feet, you enter the elevator. The foyer is likely to be crawling with security. The military might even still be there. Instead you press the button for the basement, where the deliveries entrance is. That should be much easier to sneak out.
The doors slide close and the elevator starts its slow descent. Floor five, floor four, floor three, it never seemed this slow before. Floor two and then the panel chimes. The car comes to a stop. Fuck, someone must have pressed the call button on the second level, where all the clerical staff work.
The doors slide open to reveal a tall thin man in a bad suit. He looks to be in his mid thirties, hair starting to thin on top. You’ve never seen him before, or at least you don’t remember seeing him before. You haven’t had much to do with the pen pushers downstairs though. Luckily, he’s facing away from you, evidently finishing off a conversation with a colleague
Great, in a second he’s going to turn round and see you. In a second he’s going to see a man dressed in little more than a bathrobe. In a second all sort of awkward questions are going to be asked. If only you still had Darcy inside you, he wouldn’t think twice if he saw her. You shudder involuntarily, horrified at what’s about to happen: It feels as if your skin is trying to crawl off you and hide. As the man turns to face you, he almost seems taller and more imposing.
“Hello miss,” he says with a smile as he enters. The doors close behind him.
Wait, what?
You look down at yourself, trying to work out what’s just happened, only to see a pair of smallish breasts snugly contained within a simple white camisole top. The action dislodges a few strands of curly brown hair which fall across your field of vision. Darcy! You must be Darcy again, even though she’s lying on the floor of your lab, you can still become her. You try reaching for her memories, but find nothing.
“Hi,” you reply, testing your theory. Your voice matches Darcy’s perfectly.
Pleasantries exchanged, the man turns round and presses the button for level one. You seize the opportunity presented to you, moving directly behind him and wrapping your now thin feminine arms around his waist. He barely has time to react before you start absorbing him and changing. The process is frighteningly fast. By the time the elevator reaches level one, only one man remains inside. You step smartly out and walk calmly to the door.
You are Thom Allan, thirty four, married with two grade school aged children. You work as an accountant on the administrative level of Protean Industries. Oh, and apparently you hate your dull life and secretly fantasize that something interesting would happen. The kernel of the real you hidden under Thom’s thoughts and memories can’t help but smile at that last part.
Thom has nothing to do with your own research, so you confidently stride past the security and head for the exit. There’s a crowd of military types clustered round the reception desk, working their way through the process of signing in for visitor passes. You recognise Captain Eric Sanchez amongst them from your time working at Fort Suffolk. None of them turn in your direction as you walk past
You pass through the doors without incident and take a deep breath: Free. Now what? From sifting Thom’s memories, you know that he was meeting his wife at a nearby coffee house for lunch. Keeping the lunch date would give you time to think about your next move. You also know that Thom’s car is parked nearby and it is very tempting to get in and drive off, as far away from Saratoga Falls as you can get.
And yet, one small part of you, the voice of your conscience perhaps says turn back. The conversation you overheard back on floor five keeps nagging away at you. Perhaps you should go back and warn Jillian.
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