Jungle of Creation

After what seems like a few dozen twists and turns, Cole and I finally arrive at a simple door on another secluded hallway. The only indication that this door is anything special is the gold plaque on the wall, showcasing “Director Miranda Kline” in fancy lettering. Before we even have the chance to knock, the door slides open on its own. I briefly wonder how Kline knew we were here until I see the little black eye of a security camera embedded in the ceiling. Great. Another thing to watch out for.

Inside the room appears to be a quaint little office, decorated in warm woods and deep blues, pictures of the Amazon lining the beige walls. At the center is a large mahogany desk with all sorts of paperwork scattered over the top. Seated at the desk with a curious expression is a face full of artificial lips, sharp eyebrows, and sterling gray eyes. All surrounded by a curtain of perfectly curled platinum hair. Miranda Kline.

“Ah, Amira Denton. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Kline speaks with unreserved elegance and a faint British accent, much like Dr. Howard’s. Unlike Dr. Howard, though, the smile that blossoms on her face is nothing short of a plastic rose. Fake. At least she didn’t use my mother’s name.

“Ms. Kline?” The question in my voice is partially to address what I should call her, but also why I’m here in the first place.

“No, dear. If you don’t mind, Director Kline would be fine. You’ve already met the compound’s doctor, Howard Sheffel, of course.”

For the first time, I notice Dr. Howard standing in the corner by the desk, arms at his sides. Cole directs me to one of the two navy armchairs in front of the desk, making me notice his uncharacteristic silence as well. Cole remains standing by my chair.

“Yes. Dr. Howard and I have already met.” I figure answering directly and not sarcastically will get me farther in this conversation than the alternative.

“You’re probably wondering why you are here.” Wow, this lady doesn’t miss any beats. “I’ve called you down to discuss Charley’s murder.”

Oh.

“This is highly classified information we are discussing. It should not leave this room. Are we clear?” I subconsciously gulp as her tone causes goosebumps to run up my arms. What exactly are we discussing?

“Crystal, ma’am. Though, if I may ask, why are you trusting me with this at all?”

Miranda hesitates before adjusting the bandanna around her neck and leaning forward on her arms across the desk. It gives the illusion of informality, but I know better. The director is all razor sharp edges. Her harpy eyes fixate on my own.

“You know as well as I do the atrocities that happened at that crime scene.” Out of the corner of my eye I see Cole look down at his feet. The thought must sicken him as much as it sickens me. “We finally have some insight on the motive and method behind the murder. With your instincts, we hope to not only stop future killings, but catch the monster himself.” Or herself, I add mentally, You never know.

“Think of it as information and incentive, Ms. Faller. Leadway to solving the case,” Dr. Howard interjects from his corner—his first time speaking. I see Director Kline cut him an almost imperceptible look, but he gets the message and looks down. Someone wears the pants in this relationship.

“Alright. Well, like I said, you have my word I won’t tell.”

“Great. I’m going to give an overview and then you can ask any excess questions.” The way she frowns at the mention of extra questions gives me the impression that she wants this over clean and fast. Good, me too. I give her a nod to show my approval and wait for her to begin.

“To start, the autopsy report we received indicated that Charley was indeed injected with something using the syringe you found. Given the fact that the syringe was freshly washed, we cannot identify the substance directly. Instead, we analyzed the blood itself.” Yeah, that nasty, cruel, horrifying green blood. Kline notices my haphazard expression and calmly waits a moment before proceeding. “What came back was fascinating.” Her tone displays nothing but scientific observation, no fascination at all.

I scan the room for a moment. Dr. Howard’s eyes are firmly fixed on Director Kline, his mouth a firm line. Cole appears to be studying a photo of the Amazon River, though his hands are fiddling with a loose thread on his shirt. Kline is staring at me with a blank face, but I swear I can see uneasiness and—dare I say—nausea cloud in her eyes at the mention of the blood. She hides it well.

Kline clears her throat to regain my full attention, then carries on, “The DNA of Charley Bunsen’s blood was entirely altered, the cells becoming flooded with so much of the toxin that they began bursting. Charley essentially imploded, which is why he was covered in so much of his own blood when you found him.”

“God.” I can feel myself beginning to hyperventilate, imagining the poor fate that man went through. I need something to distract myself. A question, anything. “How did you know I found him?” I already asked Dr. Howard this and didn’t get an answer. I don’t know why I expected anything different.

“S.C. Headquarters has quite a few resources at its disposal,” Kline responds without hesitation. I’m not an idiot. I know a deflected question when I see one.

I pretend I don’t notice, finding another question to ask instead, although my inner curiosity is screaming its disapproval. “Okay, is the injection the cause of death?” I think I already know the answer, but I need to hear that Charley wasn’t subjected to anything else.

“Yes. As far as we can tell, the syringe is the only harm that came to Bunsen. There were no signs of a struggle. We have a suspicion on the motive behind the murder, as well.” I’m eagerly listening now, wanting any drop of evidence I can get. I’m not sure when I became invested in Charley’s investigation, but all I can think about is how he needs justice for what was done to him.

“There is a rival agency, Inception Incorporated, that is willing to do whatever it takes to match the level of intel and expertise this organization has. We have resources and research that they do not. As a result they are getting desperate.” Kline pauses to make sure I am absorbing all of the information. It only stirs my impatience.

“What does that have to do with Charley?” I immediately bite my tongue as all three of the people in the room cut me a harsh glare. Cole’s and Howard’s seem to be more out of worry for my life, but Director Kline’s is pure spite.

“Well, as I was saying, this agency is starting to resort to barbaric measures. I—we—believe one of those may be a hired mercenary. Someone sent to test out new formulas on innocent victims. If this speculation is true, then the murderer is simply the tip of the iceberg. He is an extension of the agency.”

“Pardon me, but if that is the case, then why can’t S.C. confront the other company? Why would this agency need to murder, let alone get away with it?”

Despite the fact that my questions seem to have irked her, Kline still answers without a fault. “We cannot confront them because that would result in a full-on legal battle. We may have the intel, but they have the money. The fact that we somehow surpassed them is pushing them to test whatever they can.” Miranda pauses to tap her purple nails against her desk in an unsteady beat. “I do not believe that they are intentionally killing these people, but that they are instead using them as unwilling test subjects. They and S.C. have been working for years to develop a revolutionary medication that enhances a human’s abilities and their healing. We’ve begun making bounds in the right direction, while they are still blindly testing. I assume they realized that animals wouldn’t do anymore.”

I’m standing open-mouthed and wide-eyed, letting the stream of information sink in. Another thought occurs to me. “Why are their tests just now killing people?” Something must have changed in their formula for such a drastic thing as imploding cells to happen.

Miranda lets out a little growl—for once not directed at me—before answering. “They stole S.C. property. Luckily, what they stole doesn’t have the instruction manual to go with it.”

“So, that means…?”

“This was an inside job,” Director Kline’s lips twist up into a sinister smile, “And you, my dear, are going to help us track the thief down.”

I find myself back in front of the door to my room, my thoughts swimming uselessly in my head. Unfortunately, my escort, Cole, is no help whatsoever.

As soon as we left Howard, Kline, and her cozy office behind, Cole resumed his usual annoying banter and attitude.

‘What’s on your mind, Kitty?’

‘You’re so boring, Kitty.’

‘Why the long face, Kitty?’

I’m about to live up to the name, Kitty, and claw his face off.

Then of course he has to bring up something I’m actually interested in, “Want to know what the pretty necklaces are for?” My gaze shoots up to see him fiddling with the bandanna around his neck with a shameless smirk tattooed on his face. “Ah, that seems to have done the trick.”

“Well, what are they? A cult initiation?” I retort, trying to play off my ever-so-blatant interest in the bandannas. It doesn’t work.

Cole lets out a light chuckle before humoring me. “Think of them as a rite of passage. A display of trust. An exhibition of loyalty. A—”

“Okay. I get it,” I bite out, turning to the door to my room. I’ve had quite enough of Cole’s roguish voice for one day. I really wish I had that darn code right about now.

“Aye, hold up, Speedy Gonzales. Seriously, though, the bandannas are kind of like a physical representation of your loyalty to Selva da Criação and its secrets. You don’t get full clearance until you swear an oath and start wearing the bandanna full time. Even then, it can take years to hear all their dirty secrets. I, myself, have been here a good five years now. Goin’ on six,” Cole remarks with a cocky grin, the dry spell from his irritable qualities obviously coming to an end.

“Thanks for the lesson, Professor,” I say with a healthy salute, “I’d love to take a load off after that wonderful conversation earlier, though.”

Cole gives me a rueful smirk before opening up the door and bowing with a flourish. “After you, milady. Make sure to stay out of trouble,” He comments with a wink before turning away and calling over his shoulder, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. No—scratch that. Don’t do anything Jeremy wouldn’t do.”

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I step into my little temporary home and sit on the edge of the navy chair in the corner. Five minutes go by in nothing short of an eternity, and then I get up and pace. The bandanna means loyalty, huh? If what Howard said about not trusting me to disclose the compound’s location to Dad was true, then my sworn loyalty should mean I can talk to my family.

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I walk over to the dresser full of white scrubs and open the top drawer. The navy bandanna is still sitting on top, neatly folded, just waiting for me to pick it up. This is my outlet to Dad.

So why am I hesitating?

Dr. Howard said that Dad could probably track me here, and at this point, I’m sure Dad’s got a whole search party out looking for me. Poor Kristie. Knowing her, she probably blames herself for what happened to me, even though I had already left her shop.

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I know as soon as my dad and Lyla figure out where I am, they will stop at nothing to get me back. That’s the kind of family we are. We fight for each other. But as much as I’d hate to admit it, I’ve gotten myself roped up in the organization. I know deep down they won’t just let me go, and I think I’m too invested in Charley’s case at this point to leave before I see it through. No. I need answers. I’m not going to sign my name onto something I don’t fully understand, and I’m not going to get the answers I want from the confines of this room.

Sorry, Cole. Amira Denton is coming out to play tonight.

I think I’ve waited a sufficient amount of time, so I type the same code I watched Cole use in the keypad: 6-8-2-0-7. For one pitiful second I think the code won’t work, or some sort of alarm will go off. Then the second is over and the door slides effortlessly open, allowing me to release the breath I’d been holding. I take a quick peek down both sides of the hallway. Seeing no one in sight, I glide out of the room and the door shuts behind me. If I’m this jumpy already, how the hell am I going to do a recon mission?

Whatever. Go big or go home.

With that, I mentally flip a coin, pick a direction, and set on my way. It’s time to see what this compound keeps behind closed doors.