Jungle of Creation

Bright lights spark across my vision as another new room comes into blinding focus. I’m lying on a single iron frame bed in the midst of pure whites: boxy walls and spotless tiles. My arms are fastened to the sides of the bed just as an unstable patient might be chained in a hospital, and there is a clean bandage cuffing my left arm. The only other piece of furniture in the pristine room is an overstuffed corduroy armchair in the far corner. I try to jump to my feet when I see a broad-shouldered man watching me from the chair.

The man’s cropped blonde hair is out from under the cap, and sticks up in several directions; his outfit the same as before. Regarding me with cool blue eyes, he smirks from his corner as I wrestle with the binds around my wrists. “Haha. You’re not getting out of those.” He stands up but makes no moves toward me. I’d like to think my wild snarl has something to do with that.

My eyes flick down to his hands where several adhesive bandages have joined the blue bandanna. Catching my gaze, he spreads his hands out in front of him to give me a good look.

“Cool, right? These are my battle scars. No thanks to you,” He comments with a chuckle.

“You had the bandanna on before you met me. You’re welcome by the way.” I return his poisonous smirk, despite the unexpected crackle in my voice.

“Yeah the bandanna's something else. Sorry to disappoint.” His responses are curt and bitter, yet there is always a thread of sarcasm shoving its way through. He stares at me for a moment, our eyes locking as we size each other up. I notice his broad chin with light stubble dappling it, as well as the muscle built up in his arms. He breaks the contact as he turns to head out of the door. “You can barely speak. I guess I should get you some water,” he calls over his shoulder before heading out the door.

Get me some water? Where the hell am I?

Now that I have some peace and quiet, I turn to the leather shackles and try to reach them with my teeth. My eyes glance over my hands, noticing where I swore I had claws before there are now my same, old fingernails. I must really be going crazy… I’m finally able to reach the binds in a sort of contortionist pose when the door opens again and I snap back up to see. Instead of that young man, an older one, probably in his late fifties, comes in. He is dressed in a slate gray suit with a dark blue handkerchief, similar to the one on my captor’s palm, tied around his neck. He has deep sapphire eyes and heavy wrinkles, with peppered hair cut close to his scalp.

“Good evening, Ms. Faller.” He regards me with a slight English accent and a warm smile that seems genuine as he stands far away with his hands crossed in front of him.

“It’s Denton. Faller was my mother’s name.” I return his gaze, but a smile never touches my lips. How does he know my mother’s name? Where am I?

“I know very well who your mother is, Ms. Faller. She is quite the talk around here. Now, you are too.” What and what? Just pick a question, Amira.

“Excuse me, but where is here?” I ignore all of his pleasantries, too impatient and shocked to even attempt to reciprocate them.

“Why, you’re at Selva da Criação Incorporated, of course. Did Cole not tell you?”

I scoff, “He was a little too busy knocking me out and dragging me here.”

His eyes widen in surprise before narrowing in outrage, all in a split second. Before I know it, all that’s left on his face is the same old warm smile. “No wonder he left in such a hurry. I deeply apologize for this. Cole wasn’t supposed to bring you in like that unless absolutely necessary.”

Now my eyes widen as I blanch. “What do you mean, ‘unless absolutely necessary’? Why am I here?” My voice quickly goes from shock into high-pitched anger.

Upholding his cheerful facade, the man replies calmly, “Let me start by introducing myself: I am Howard Sheffel, You can call me Doctor Howard. Now, like I said, you’re at S.C. headquarters and—”

I cut him off, my own urgent questions bubbling in my gut. “Where is this headquarters?”

“I cannot disclose the exact location, but I can tell you that you’re in Brazil. I assure you we mean you no harm. Our organization is a sector in a top secret government agency researching some revolutionary medications. We simply sought you out because of your findings in Brazil and your relations to Lilli Faller.”

“My mother? What does my mother have to do with this? And what findings are you talking about?”

“Your mother is a big help to this organization, Amira. We had hopes you could be too, and when you found Charley’s murder site, we knew you would.” Dr. Howard speaks slow, making steady eye contact, as if trying not to spook a small child. Too late.

I pale and start struggling against my shackles again, all while staring Dr. Howard dead in the eye. “How do you know about that?”

“We have our sources, Amira. I told you we are a major organization. I need you to trust me right now,” Ha. Funny. “All we want from you is your help in identifying Charley’s killer. We thought you might have seen something useful.”

I flash back to the green blood, the man’s haunting eyes, and the red-stained syringe. For a reason I can’t explain—whether it be his warm smile or just pure desperation— I feel like this guy deserves to know the truth. I don’t trust him in the slightest, but I would want to know about my father’s death if it came to that. So I tell him. “There was… green blood. And a syringe. It looked like it could have some normal blood left on it, but I don’t think there’s anything to test.”

“I’m sure we can work with it. I’d like you to come with me to the site so you can identify anything that could help us. Can you do that?”

I stare at the man for a moment, wondering whether to go anywhere, let alone a murder site, with him. These people could easily be psychopaths. I know for sure that one of them is. After a moment, though, I realize I still don’t know exactly where I am and my best bet of getting home would be to stick with these people. Unfortunately. I hesitate before replying, “Yes, I’ll go.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, Dr. Howard glides towards me and undoes my binds. I step onto the cold tile, still dressed in my clothes from when I was taken.

“How long have I been here exactly?”

“Well, Cole flew you straight in, so you’ve been at the compound for about five hours maybe,” Fifteen hours. I’ve been missing for fifteen hours. “He must have given you some sort of sedative to keep you from waking on the plane. I assure you as soon as we get back he is getting briefed on his actions.”

“Thanks, I guess.” How in the world am I going to get home from Brazil? Dr. Howard twists the knob on the door, revealing an equally white hallway with several corridors leading to more white rooms. Stylish. We turn to the left toward an enormous vault door, while I catch Cole out of the corner of my eye, leaning on the wall to the right. He flashes me a vicious smirk before I turn back to Dr. Howard leading the way. The maniac’s eyes follow me the whole way down.