Forevermore.
Prologue
“Was it successful?”
“Better than we expected, the full results should be coming in soon.”
“Good, his condition…he is stable, is he not?”
“As stable as he can be at this point. I‘m afraid we won‘t know for sure until the results come in. Oh, and of course there’s further testing to be done.”
“That so? Well, I don’t want to hold you up then, leave the results of the initial testing with my secretary, I’ll skim through it later.”
“As you wish sir. Have a good night.”
I can hear the slamming of a door as I start to float to back to consciousness. My eyes open slightly, taking in my surroundings. I can barely make out anything around me, my head is spinning, my vision blurry and unfocused. I can tell that I’m in a dimly lit room - a small lamp rests on a table to my left, illuminating the room with a soft yellow light - but I can’t remember how I got here, or even what my name is. I try to remember, but it only causes my head to throb with a dull pain so I decide to just leave it till I find out why I’m here.
I’m laying on a leather sofa, with a small feathery pillow tucked under my head and a thin blue blanket draped across my body. I’m still very confused, but I don’t think I should dote on it too much. As my eyes start to adjust and come into focus I can make out two unfamiliar figures standing about 7 feet away, engaging in an intense conversation. One is about 6 feet tall and is very thin, dressed in a long gray winter coat that must’ve been made from some kind of animal. He looks to be in his 30s, with short, jet-black hair and a gaunt face that reminds me of Dracula, though much younger than the one in the movies. The person he is talking to is about the same height, but this one is much more muscular, his impressively large biceps threatening to rip the seams of his immaculately ironed tuxedo shirt. With slightly tanned skin and somewhat short hair complimented by bangs that fell just a half an inch away from his eyes, this man might be described by some as tall, dark, and handsome. I think he looks like Igor from Frankenstein, but more youthful and with a straighter back. I don’t recognize the room I’m in at all and the thought scares me. The room is not very big, about the size of a large office space with light-brown walls. It is completely bare, except for a small desk far to my left, the lamp on the table next to me, and the sofa I’m laying on. I decide to try to get up without the two men noticing, but almost as soon as I decide to start getting up, they turn to look in my direction. I pretend to be asleep so as not to alert them.
“Is he supposed to be asleep still? It’s been at least 3 days.” It’s the Dracula look-alike talking.
“The side-effects are different for everyone, Morke. Some slip into a coma for a few months or so, most don’t even wake at all. But don’t worry, this one is different, he registered positive. I’m sure he’ll wake up before too long,” answers the muscular one. I’m guessing the one that looks like Dracula is named Morke.
“Good, we don’t have a lot of time, Simon. There’s already been a number of investigations - we’ve been lucky so far - but the day when the truth is leaked does not appear to far off. I can feel it in my bones, time is running out. We must hurry.” Morke places a heavy emphasis on the last three words, so I know whatever it is they’re doing is on a time constraint.
An angry expression appears on Simon’s previously stone-like face. “I know! But we can’t rush this…we mustn’t. Who knows how long it’ll be before we find another one like this? We have to make sure we don’t make any mistakes.” The muscular guy, Simon, pauses for a few seconds, waiting for his words to sink in, then continues, “Let’s just prepare for phase two, I’m hoping to have it ready before this guy regains consciousness, I don’t want him running wild. You know full well the consequences of that.” Simon moves closer to me, he is only 5 feet away now and closing in. He grabs my blanket and throws it off, then reaches down to pick me up. As his hands get closer, I panic and open my eyes, causing him to back up a bit in surprise. I use his shock to turn and give him a good kick in the chest, causing him to fall on his back. Quickly leaping up off the sofa and onto my feet, I make a dash for the door, arms flailing, legs moving me forward for all they are worth.
Morke tries to stop me by flinging himself at my legs, but I easily side-step him - smacking my heel against his head as I run by. I watch as his head bounces against the floor, possibly knocking him unconscious. Simon is standing up by now, running after me as I race for the door.
“Stop! We‘re not trying to hurt you! Listen to me!” I ignore Simon’s yelling and keep running towards the door. I’m almost there, only about 6 feet away now, freedom is so close I can taste it - although I’m not quite sure just what kind of freedom I’m escaping to. Simon overtakes me as I’m about to yank open the door - grabbing my shoulders and tossing me backwards onto the floor. “I told you to stop running!” He seems very angry now - I think I could see his eyes glow faintly red. He moves in closer, getting ready to backhand me with all his strength. I move back then try to punch him in the stomach. My punch doesn’t reach him, but amazingly he’s sent flying backwards, crashing straight through the door - literally snapping it off its hinges and causing the beautiful wood to splinter and crack. I don‘t hesitate, I run out the door as quickly as possible, looking around for a possible escape route. Luckily, Simon was knocked unconscious by the impact so I have time to formulate an escape route.
The outside hallway looks exactly the same as the room I have just stepped out of, bare brown walls on either side of me, stretching as far as the eye could see. Seeing no other way to go, I warily continue forward, keeping a deliberately slow and careful pace. The hall stretches on and on, every inch of it exactly the same as the last. I don’t quite know if I am continuing on towards freedom or if I am still asleep, dreaming of escape. The lack of change is starting to affect me - I’m being haunted by visions, memories that I have, but am not familiar with. I realize I don’t remember anything about my life before waking up here. Nothing at all, except for a few movies that I watched and television shows that I enjoyed. That’s it - no other speck of my life remains - I can’t remember my name or what I was doing before waking up here. All I know is that I have to escape - to where I don’t know - but I can’t stay here, I have to get away, to freedom.
I can begin to see a bright light up ahead now, a brighter whiter light than the ones around me. I follow it, throwing all I have after this one shred of freedom. As I close in on the light I can see the outline of a silvery-steel door, standing out amongst the wooden brown walls. I walk up to it in amazement, almost in disbelief. My right hand reaches out to touch the door, but instead of feeling cold steel I feel the warmth of flesh. My eyes snap down to see what it is I’m touching - another palm is pressed against mine. The other hand moves and grabs my wrist, pulling me forward. I pass straight through the door, unharmed, as if there was nothing between me and the person at the other end of the hand. I can feel myself falling, sinking into an abyss, down, down deep into the unknown. Then I hit the end of the line, and everything fades to black.
“Better than we expected, the full results should be coming in soon.”
“Good, his condition…he is stable, is he not?”
“As stable as he can be at this point. I‘m afraid we won‘t know for sure until the results come in. Oh, and of course there’s further testing to be done.”
“That so? Well, I don’t want to hold you up then, leave the results of the initial testing with my secretary, I’ll skim through it later.”
“As you wish sir. Have a good night.”
I can hear the slamming of a door as I start to float to back to consciousness. My eyes open slightly, taking in my surroundings. I can barely make out anything around me, my head is spinning, my vision blurry and unfocused. I can tell that I’m in a dimly lit room - a small lamp rests on a table to my left, illuminating the room with a soft yellow light - but I can’t remember how I got here, or even what my name is. I try to remember, but it only causes my head to throb with a dull pain so I decide to just leave it till I find out why I’m here.
I’m laying on a leather sofa, with a small feathery pillow tucked under my head and a thin blue blanket draped across my body. I’m still very confused, but I don’t think I should dote on it too much. As my eyes start to adjust and come into focus I can make out two unfamiliar figures standing about 7 feet away, engaging in an intense conversation. One is about 6 feet tall and is very thin, dressed in a long gray winter coat that must’ve been made from some kind of animal. He looks to be in his 30s, with short, jet-black hair and a gaunt face that reminds me of Dracula, though much younger than the one in the movies. The person he is talking to is about the same height, but this one is much more muscular, his impressively large biceps threatening to rip the seams of his immaculately ironed tuxedo shirt. With slightly tanned skin and somewhat short hair complimented by bangs that fell just a half an inch away from his eyes, this man might be described by some as tall, dark, and handsome. I think he looks like Igor from Frankenstein, but more youthful and with a straighter back. I don’t recognize the room I’m in at all and the thought scares me. The room is not very big, about the size of a large office space with light-brown walls. It is completely bare, except for a small desk far to my left, the lamp on the table next to me, and the sofa I’m laying on. I decide to try to get up without the two men noticing, but almost as soon as I decide to start getting up, they turn to look in my direction. I pretend to be asleep so as not to alert them.
“Is he supposed to be asleep still? It’s been at least 3 days.” It’s the Dracula look-alike talking.
“The side-effects are different for everyone, Morke. Some slip into a coma for a few months or so, most don’t even wake at all. But don’t worry, this one is different, he registered positive. I’m sure he’ll wake up before too long,” answers the muscular one. I’m guessing the one that looks like Dracula is named Morke.
“Good, we don’t have a lot of time, Simon. There’s already been a number of investigations - we’ve been lucky so far - but the day when the truth is leaked does not appear to far off. I can feel it in my bones, time is running out. We must hurry.” Morke places a heavy emphasis on the last three words, so I know whatever it is they’re doing is on a time constraint.
An angry expression appears on Simon’s previously stone-like face. “I know! But we can’t rush this…we mustn’t. Who knows how long it’ll be before we find another one like this? We have to make sure we don’t make any mistakes.” The muscular guy, Simon, pauses for a few seconds, waiting for his words to sink in, then continues, “Let’s just prepare for phase two, I’m hoping to have it ready before this guy regains consciousness, I don’t want him running wild. You know full well the consequences of that.” Simon moves closer to me, he is only 5 feet away now and closing in. He grabs my blanket and throws it off, then reaches down to pick me up. As his hands get closer, I panic and open my eyes, causing him to back up a bit in surprise. I use his shock to turn and give him a good kick in the chest, causing him to fall on his back. Quickly leaping up off the sofa and onto my feet, I make a dash for the door, arms flailing, legs moving me forward for all they are worth.
Morke tries to stop me by flinging himself at my legs, but I easily side-step him - smacking my heel against his head as I run by. I watch as his head bounces against the floor, possibly knocking him unconscious. Simon is standing up by now, running after me as I race for the door.
“Stop! We‘re not trying to hurt you! Listen to me!” I ignore Simon’s yelling and keep running towards the door. I’m almost there, only about 6 feet away now, freedom is so close I can taste it - although I’m not quite sure just what kind of freedom I’m escaping to. Simon overtakes me as I’m about to yank open the door - grabbing my shoulders and tossing me backwards onto the floor. “I told you to stop running!” He seems very angry now - I think I could see his eyes glow faintly red. He moves in closer, getting ready to backhand me with all his strength. I move back then try to punch him in the stomach. My punch doesn’t reach him, but amazingly he’s sent flying backwards, crashing straight through the door - literally snapping it off its hinges and causing the beautiful wood to splinter and crack. I don‘t hesitate, I run out the door as quickly as possible, looking around for a possible escape route. Luckily, Simon was knocked unconscious by the impact so I have time to formulate an escape route.
The outside hallway looks exactly the same as the room I have just stepped out of, bare brown walls on either side of me, stretching as far as the eye could see. Seeing no other way to go, I warily continue forward, keeping a deliberately slow and careful pace. The hall stretches on and on, every inch of it exactly the same as the last. I don’t quite know if I am continuing on towards freedom or if I am still asleep, dreaming of escape. The lack of change is starting to affect me - I’m being haunted by visions, memories that I have, but am not familiar with. I realize I don’t remember anything about my life before waking up here. Nothing at all, except for a few movies that I watched and television shows that I enjoyed. That’s it - no other speck of my life remains - I can’t remember my name or what I was doing before waking up here. All I know is that I have to escape - to where I don’t know - but I can’t stay here, I have to get away, to freedom.
I can begin to see a bright light up ahead now, a brighter whiter light than the ones around me. I follow it, throwing all I have after this one shred of freedom. As I close in on the light I can see the outline of a silvery-steel door, standing out amongst the wooden brown walls. I walk up to it in amazement, almost in disbelief. My right hand reaches out to touch the door, but instead of feeling cold steel I feel the warmth of flesh. My eyes snap down to see what it is I’m touching - another palm is pressed against mine. The other hand moves and grabs my wrist, pulling me forward. I pass straight through the door, unharmed, as if there was nothing between me and the person at the other end of the hand. I can feel myself falling, sinking into an abyss, down, down deep into the unknown. Then I hit the end of the line, and everything fades to black.
