C. Adams - Version 2.0

For a moment, they both stared unable to speak. It was Birdie that broke the short silence. “That’s… not supposed to happen, right?”

“No… No, it’s not…”

Chaos had become the only word to describe the upper east section of the island where the Proprietors resided. People had abandoned their posts and taken shelter underground. Brian had been explaining this to Birdie, as they made their way toward the runway. The air was thick with what smelled like plastic cooking in a cast iron pan.

“It’s probably the Defectors,” Brian shouted over the noise as he led her, holding tightly to her hand, toward the crash site. “They’re Proprietors like us, that deserted the island.”

“Why would they do that?”

“They don’t like rules, I guess,” he replied. “I don’t really know. But they’re always causing trouble and getting themselves caught because of it, too. They nearly get themselves and, in turn, the rest of us exposed.”

“Why don’t the Observers do anything about it?” she asked.

“They do. Well, they try to, anyway. Defectors are hard to find. Because they were given a new life, separated from their past, it’s hard to track them down very quickly. The ones the Observers have found and brought back are usually in need of debriefing again, and then rumor has it they’re locked up until they can be completely rehabilitated.”

“Does that even work? I mean… it sounds like trying to get someone off of drugs…” Brian inwardly flinched at that.

“Rarely,” he told her, not brushing off the comment, but accepting the right she had to use it. “Those people are brainwashed. There’s a leader amongst them all. That’s what I heard, anyway. They fill their heads with these ridiculous stories, and before you know it, someone you know is suddenly a whack job.”

“You’ve known one of them?” she surmised.

He glanced over at her for a moment, then back in front of him as they continued on. “That friend I mentioned earlier.”

“The one that told you about the planes?”

“Yep.”

“He became a Defector?”

“One day, we’re having coffee and conspiring about what I should put in my next book. The next day, he’s trying to convince me that the island is our enemy. Can you believe that? We’re all the same, here. This is a safe place for us, and he was trying to convince me that we were prisoners.”

“That must’ve been awkward.”

“It was. And it really sucked when they arrested him right out of the cafe. It was embarrassing as hell.”

“Is that why you kept to yourself, after that?” she asked. He looked back at her again, in question. “In the coffee shop, it was just like before you died; always keeping to yourself. I know that before, it was more because you were too busy for friends. But that doesn’t matter anymore, does it…”

“You saying I’m a recluse?”

“That’s not what I said!”

“Hold it right there!” a man in a white hazmat suit appeared before them.

“What’s going on?” Brian asked. “We saw the explosion.”

“There was some kind of bomb on the plane,” the man explained. “Some kind of toxic chemical was spilled over a hundred yard radius. No one should pass through here without the proper gear.”

“That would’ve hit the precinct,” Brian said.

“It did,” the man replied. “Everyone on duty is down.”

“The precinct?” Birdie asked. “As in the Observers?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the man replied. “We’ve got less than a dozen off-duty officers coming in to take over. Who are you?”

“This is Amber Farran,” Brian told him. “She’s technically an officer now, too. Just came top-side today.”

“They’re probably gonna need you, then,” the man told her, then turned to Brian. “Do you know where the old Observer station is?”

“Yeah,” Brian replied, nodding.

“They’re gathering there for supplies. You should take her there.”

“Are people in danger?” Birdie asked.

“The threat’s been contained,” the man replied. “But we’re vulnerable until we can get everyone rehabilitated. That could take a while. We can use everyone we can get…”

“Welcome to the force, Agent Farran,” a blond-haired woman as tall as Birdie, and around the same age, shook her hand. “I’m Agent Kale. I was actually the one assigned to train you, though I wasn’t expecting to have to start for a couple of days.”

The old Observer station was underground, just like the debriefing area. Only it wasn’t a submarine. If anything, it seemed more like a subway station, sans the tracks and ticket booths. And despite its description, the old station didn’t look unused at all. It seemed like there were walls of never-ending storage that had regularly been organized and kept up. There were several empty desks, void of people but still occupied with items that portrayed they had a purpose.

“Nice to meet you. And sorry…”

“No need to apologize. Aside from the obvious setback, I like a little unexpected. Gets a bit redundant around here, sometimes. Some action is always welcome, as far as I see it,” she gave a half grin. Birdie returned it. “I read your file,” Kale continued. “I think you’ll fit in real well here,” she turned to lead her up the hall, and Birdie turned to Brian, making sure he followed. He was, of course. But he was very studiously observing Kale’s very fitted black uniform. Or rather the curves it accentuated.

“Um… thanks,” she replied, looking back to Kale. “What are we looking at, here? I mean, do we know who did this?”

“More than likely, Defectors,” she told her. “I’ll need to read you in.”

“No need,” Birdie replied. “I’ve heard a fair share. What’s the sitrep?”

“As you saw, there was a bomb on the visiting plane. Everyone within a hundred yard radius was killed. Proprietors were put in RR… uh, Reanimation Room,” she elaborated, “In case you haven’t heard about it. It’s basically where we go if something happens to us, until the reanimation begins.”

“How long does it usually take?” Birdie inquired.

“Depends on how we die, and how many times it’s happened before. Could be anywhere between a few hours and several days.”

“Apparently, the more you die,” Brian added, “The faster your body knows what to do to regenerate itself.”

“That seems… strange,” Birdie commented. “You’d think it’d be just the opposite.”

“Around here, you’ll find a lot of things don’t really follow the scientific laws you were raised to understand,” Kale glanced at her, just as they reached a set of navy blue lockers. She pulled up on the handle before pulling one of the locker doors open. “Lucky for you, I plan ahead,” she told her as she pulled out a neatly folded pile of clothing. “Your uniform. Go and get changed. Can’t have you running around enforcing laws in hospital scrubs. When you’re ready, meet me across the hall. I’ll get you your access card and weapon. You,” she looked to Brian, “Can come with me, if you want. We could use a hand around here, unless you wanna go underground until this all blows over.”

“Why is everyone going underground, by the way?” Birdie asked.

“Media,” Kale raised her brows. “As soon as they catch wind of the crash, they’ll be swarming the area with helicopters. People go under because this place needs to be kept a secret.”

“Won’t the obvious civilization give it away?” she furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Once the people are safely locked down,” she replied as she walked over to a computer panel, “Everything else goes under, too.” With a few clicks on the keypad, a hologram-like screen popped up showing the island at street view. “This green light here,” she pointed beside the screen, “Means lock-down is complete. That means clean-up should be starting right about…” Moments after she said it, Birdie watched as the coffee shop she’d been in the morning started to lower into the ground, then several of the buildings around it. “Now.”