J. Souders - Revelations

“Only temporarily. As soon as I found the exit, I would have come back for you.”

I can’t help but glare at him. “And if you ended up more lost? Then what?”

From the way his face twists up I can tell that wasn’t something he’d considered. He confirms it when he doesn’t say anything. It worries—terrifies—me that he’d leave me like that, but then again, I guess I can’t really blame him either. I suppose after what happened last night, if I’d been in his position, the thought of trying to find the exit alone would have crossed my mind as well.

I push myself shakily to my feet and sway for a second when my head spins. It’s not long, but obviously long enough to scare Asher as he rushes to me and slips an arm around my waist. I push him away.

“I’m not helpless. I can walk by myself. I just got up too fast. And I’m tired.”

He removes his arm, but narrows his eyes at me, then turns back to the door. He moves the boxes out of the way, then flicks the flashlight back on. We try retracing the steps we took the night before, but it’s hard. All of the corridors look the same, especially in the dark, and with all its corners and twists and turns it feels like a gigantic maze. I almost expect to wind up face to face with a sphinx, with a riddle to figure out.

We take our time, trying to remember each hallway we go through and create a map inside our heads. Asher keeps mumbling “Left, right, left, left” under his breath every time we turn a corridor or go down a set of stairs, and I’m tempted to be perverse and ask him which way to go. Left? Or right? Just to see him get flustered when he forgets the pattern. But I don’t because I’ve lost track of the pattern myself and if he remembers it, it may be the only way we get out.

There’s still a chill in the air, and it causes goose pimples to rise on my skin. The scent of mildew and something worse—something that I can’t place—is thick and causes my already sore lungs to fight each and every breath. The light from Asher’s flashlight is dim, and only reveals meters and meters of gray walls. The lack of color makes me feel like my eyes aren’t focusing, and I find myself blinking too often. Sound travels strangely as we walk, sometimes echoing, sometimes seeming to swallow even the soft sounds of Asher’s mumbles, my wheezing, and our shoes scraping against the debris on the floor. It has me on edge, but I don’t say anything to Asher, just stay close to him. The only other sound is the occasional plop of water as it drips onto the floor, startling me every time.

In the back of my mind, I hear the echoes of memories trying to force their way up to the front, but I shove them back every time.

I won’t have another attack. Not if I can help it.

As we walk, curiosity causes us to push open some of the doors. We use the flashlight to illuminate as much of the rooms as it can, which isn’t much. Each one shows us something new. Some look like some sort of lab. Others are obviously sleeping quarters. And others are like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Even Asher has no clue what they could be. One of these rooms has odd machines set in a half circle around a strange bed. The machines look to be made of plastic and are really tall. At least as tall as Asher. All sorts of tubes and wires are hanging off each one and there’s an accordioned attachment on the side of the machine. Silver metal boxes rest on top with the words “Halothane,” “Isoflurane,” and “Desflurane” on the side of them.

I frown and enter the room, trying to get a closer look.

“Evie! Get back here,” Asher whisper-yells.

I ignore him and continue toward the machine. To the right and slightly above the strange metal boxes, there’s a thing that looks like Gavin’s television screen. Below the boxes there are four or so dials. Each dial has numbers and letters below it that look like some kind of chemical compound. And I have no idea how I know that .

There’s a thick layer of dust on the contraptions, so obviously this place has been abandoned for a while. I open the top drawer of the machine and find syringes, medicine vials, and tubes. With a shudder, I quickly shut the drawer and turn toward the bed. Straps crisscross over the top and, like the machine, it’s covered in dust.

“What is this?” I ask, trailing a finger over the strange machine.

“Anesthesia. It’s used to put people to sleep for medical procedures and … experiments…”

How odd, I think and go back to join Asher, who takes my arm, firmly leading me out of the room.

Looking up at him, I ask, “Do you suppose that room was used for sexual experiments? Like a study in sexual response, perhaps?”

He stops in his tracks and looks down at me, his eyes wide. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

I shrug. “There was a bed, and the straps…” I trail off, blushing at the smile crawling over Asher’s face.

“And what, pray tell, do you know about sexual practices that involve straps?” There’s laughter in his voice.

I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin. “I am well-versed in the ways of mating. ” I frown. Where did that come from?

“You are, are you?” he says, still laughing. He threads my arm through his. “Well, then, do tell. I’m obviously not as ‘well-versed’ as you.”

I have to laugh and lightly punch his arm. “You wish.”

He laughs back. “Yes. Yes I do.” But he drops it and we continue on our way.

Finally I spot a pinprick of light, growing brighter and brighter the closer we get.

Asher and I grin at each other, then rush to what looks like it could be the outdoors, but when we get to where the light is coming from, it’s not an exit. It’s a large wall-sized window. Curtains cover it, so it’s impossible to see what the window shows, but we frown at each other. The confusion in his eyes mirrors my own. If we’re underground, how is there a window?

We creep to it, and when Asher pulls the curtain away, I gasp. It’s a window that looks directly into water. From the murkiness of it, it’s easy to tell it’s some kind of lake, though the glow of the surface isn’t too far overhead. Asher looks over at me, then places a hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

“Of course.” But I swallow at the lump in my throat. This view reminds me of something, and it has my nerves tingling. I can’t recall what it is, and that has me even more nervous. I’m grateful for Asher’s presence. He studies me a bit longer, then shrugs and goes back to peering out into the water.

“I wonder why this is here,” he says.

I don’t have an answer, but I don’t think he was looking for one anyway. My legs feel weak and it takes almost all of my strength to continue forward, but I step closer to get a better look. The water is a really light green and if I look up high enough, I can see through it to the surface. It’s too dark to see the bottom.

The blood rushes out of my head and I feel a bit dizzy. I press a hand to the glass to steady myself.

I shift so I can see Asher. “I’ve never seen water this color before. Have you?”

He shakes his head—the way he does it makes me think he didn’t really hear me—and goes back to staring at a metal nameplate on the side of the door. Just as I turn back to the water I hear him say, “Oh, Jesus.”

Before I can ask him what’s wrong, something slides across the glass. I jump, but figure it’s probably just a fish. It is a lake after all. Maybe it’s even a mermaid. I saw an old water stained and torn picture of one in Ann Marie’s room and I’ve wanted to see a real one ever since. But when I eagerly lean closer, I scream.

And scream. And scream. I can’t seem to stop myself from screaming.