Skinwalker

The sun will be on the horizon in a few hours. Out here, in the middle of Louisiana forest, the stars are brightly spread across the sky like a blanket and the only thing disturbing the dark are the headlights of Brittany’s car. I drive down the forest road that twists and turns through the hills in the forest. If my host hadn’t known this path, I would have gotten lost looking for it. The road was well hidden, tucked between several trees that were wide enough for only one vehicle to fit through. For a while, the road remained narrow and only widened after I passed through a roadblock that I had to get out of the car to unlock, open, and then close behind my car.

Once passing through that short gate, I take a moment to think about Brittany so I can look like her. In a few miles there will be cameras monitoring the area, then a secured gate, and then Genetics Incorporated. This is the testing facility where the subhumans are kept, not the building that is publicly known. While that is used for numerous other types of medical research and science, it is not the home of their subhuman experiment. The two are kept separate so they can’t be caught.

The drive is slow, the road is uneven and hard on the car. I know the facility is close when I can finally see dim lighting cutting through the trees. It’s coming from an old guard shack attached to a fence. The fence is tall but unthreatening; it’s worn down a bit from years of harsh weather and debris hangs from the crisscrossing metal. The old guard building looks abandoned with its dusty windows, dilapidated roof, and vines growing up its walls. The only thing that’s been maintained is a small box on a stand that Brittany’s memories tell me is where I swipe her badge. When I do, the fence jumps to life, opening swiftly and quietly. It’s all a show.

Once the sensor knows I’ve passed, the gate closes, and in the rearview mirror it looks as pathetic as it had before. There is more forest between the gate and the building, but not an endless expanse like before; I’m on a driveway that curves down and to the right, meeting a dirt parking lot in front of a large warehouse type building. It’s tall, maybe two stories, and halfway up the wall is one single solitary light. I park in its glow, just as Brittany would, and glance over the building.

The paint hasn’t been updated in years; there are water stains from the top down, faded brown paint on the cement brick walls, and ivy growing from the ground up. The lot is the only thing that appears maintained and that’s only because vehicles use it frequently enough that nature can’t fight back. An outsider wouldn’t think much of this place. Then again, they’re not supposed to.

The few lights are dim to not attract outsiders from long distances. The fence looks broke down because they want to seem unthreatening. The building looks abandoned to be ignored. Brittany knows better, which means I do, too.

Cameras keep an eye on the perimeter, if there’s someone that seems too curious, the fence can be electrified but that’s usually unnecessary as there are people available to extinguish any threat, anytime. In my hosts memories there hasn’t been a need for that action in a very long time as the posted no trespassing signs throughout the forest seem to keep people from getting close.

For now, I let my thoughts follow her memories, and grab all the things I need from the passenger seat. At the employee entrance I press the badge against the reader then tug the door open. The cool air inside the building blasts me as I pass through the doorway, and once I’m inside the heavy metal door clangs shut, locking in place.

Suddenly this is real.

The indoor environment and the beautifully groomed atrium across from the entrance are a shock compared to the outside of this place. From the false face one could easily assume the inside would look older, more run down, and perhaps not so well lit or sterile feeling. Even though I could have accessed the aesthetic from my host, I chose not to, which left me imagining more of an old medical center that hasn’t really been updated in twenty or thirty years.

The atrium is framed in glass, showing off lit landscape with some shrubs and a few trees along with two separate picnic areas. To my left is a cinderblock wall that’s painted white, so I follow the hallway that goes to the right and wraps around the atrium. My feet have me turning at the first opening, into a room that looks like a nurse’s station at a hospital.

In the middle of the space is a counter the shape of a backward the letter L. In the middle of the work area there are two rows of black filing cabinets five drawers high, two cabinets wide, and back-to-back. There are three computers, one on the front of the station, and two down the side. Each has double monitors, miscellaneous office equipment, and personal items which individualize the spaces. My hosts’ station is against the back wall with photos of her daughters.

On either side of the station there are private rooms with fireproof doors than have small window panels to see through. Inside of the room is a procedure curtain that can be pulled closed to block the window. To the left there are three rooms and an opening that leads into the lab, and on the right, there are four rooms. I set the duffle bag on the desk that my host occupies and find myself curious about the building, the job Brittany does, and the filing cabinets in the middle. I could pull this information from Brittany’s memories, but I decide to find out for myself.

Through the opening is a fully functional lab filled with equipment I couldn’t name without my host. There are workspaces around the room with shelving stands next to them packed full of supplied. As I walk through the room, I see workstations where blood tubes of various colored tops sit inside shakers that move in circular motion to keep the blood from clotting; there are a few refrigerators, incubators, and hotplates throughout the room, along with other equipment I don’t recognize that Brittany has to educate me on like DNA and blood analyzers.

Drawers are filled with supplies different types of glass beakers are stored in cabinets, along with their accessories. There’s a shelf with microscopes, dishes, and slides, and a closet full of hazardous chemical spill equipment with a chemical shower, eye wash, and different fire extinguishers.

Looking through all this I’m thankful I have Brittany in my head because chemistry wasn’t exactly part of the subhuman government education program I went through.

The seven patient rooms in the main room are set up the same. There is a patient chair in the middle of the small room bolted to the ground with leather straps at the arms, waist, and legs. On the floor there are thick, D rings in the cement floor. An extra level of protection, strap them to the chair, and chain them to the floor.

There is a metal tray on wheels in the corner, a stool on wheels tucked under a desk, and a cupboard bolted to the walls filled with supplies. There are no windows in any of the rooms, just harsh bright lights, and white cinderblock walls. The floors don’t even have tile on them, they’re just polished cement. This theme plays out into the nurses’ station and probably the rest of the facility. There isn’t anything inviting in this place. It’s all very sterile.

Voices echo down the hall and I pause. Two men dressed in dark blue security uniforms pass the doorway without taking a glance in my direction. One of them is holding a cup of coffee while the other complains about his wife and children. When I can no longer hear their voices, I begin snooping through the office space.

I pull open the drawers on the desks one at a time to see what’s inside of them, jiggle mice to see what’s on the computer screens only to find each of them locked, and then go to the filing cabinets. Two of the cabinets are completely empty, waiting for files to be stored within, while one of the other cabinets belongs to the subhumans that are being tested, and the other is dedicated to files of subhumans who had been. There about a hundred files between the two cabinets, and it makes my heart sink.

Some of these subhumans are dead, some are cured, some are being tested, some are here just passing time in a cell until it’s their turn, and then there are the others who are out in the world waiting to be collected. So far, it seems, no subhuman has ever left this building. Even the one’s the mutes they’ve recently cured are still here. After looking through a number of files, making myself sick and heartbroken, I slam the thing shut and find something else to explore.

It only takes a few minutes for me to get stuck on the drawers at the station I’ll be using and that’s because they’re all locked. Brittany knows where her keys are and directs me to them. After a peek around the room to ensure I’m still alone, I pull them from the hiding space build into the desk under her keyboard and then unlock the drawers.

In the first drawer there is an elegant glass case, inside are two sets of beautiful bracelets that look like stained wood. They’re polished, reflecting the light of the room, and there are symbols burnt into the side of them. Each pair is protected by cut Styrofoam and it seems two pairs are already in use.

I set the case with the glass window on the desk and open it. Despite how the bracelets look, they’re flexible. I click one of the bracelets shut and then try to pull it open. It won’t unsnap. My heart flutters. How does this thing open? I twist and pull at the material getting a true understanding of how strong it is, and suddenly the seal comes undone.

Inspecting the bracelet for moment, I try to understand how that happened. Like an idiot, I close it again, tug with no result, and then inspect them more. I slide my fingers over the strange material trying to see if there is a sensor and then it pops open. I close the bracelet again and brush one finger across the closed joint, but nothing happens. So, I slide a different finger over it until finally my thumb pops it back open. Another trial provides the same result and I understand it has a touch memory. Holding the thing in the light I wonder why on earth Genetics Incorporated would need bracelets that lock with a touch memory?

They’re for subhumans with magical abilities, is the purpose I draw from Brittany’s memories. The bracelets are made from powerful magic, some type of blocking curse. They’re designed to prevent the use of magic from any species that possess the ability. The three main types of subhumans who would get these are witches, wizards, and mages. The bracelets can also be used on telepaths, necromancers, and anyone else who can do harm with forces outside of their own strength. They just wouldn’t be quite as effective.

Cautiously, I put the bracelet back where it came from, close the lid, and put it away. For a long time, I stare through the window of the case. I may have hidden my ability for years, I may not have wanted to use it, I may have lied about what I am, but I never suppressed it. I always felt my skin twitch with excitement when I gave someone a hug or shook someone’s hand. My ability has never been buried within myself; it’s ever-present. These bracelets could be harmful to anyone with them on.

There are stories of people suppressing their ability and the endings are almost always nasty. I learned about this while I was studying in the capitol. There was a story of a witch who wanted to suppress her magic, she was successful for a period of time, and then one day the magic got the best of her.Ignoring her ability, it grew uncontrolled within her and eventually the woman lost all ability to suppress it; she was consumed by her ability and the inner magic was finally free to do as it pleased, casting complete and utter chaos, cursing the land she stood on. Her coven was forced to kill her.

I put the bracelet case away knowing Cassandra has undoubtedly had these placed on her the moment she came through the doors. It’s safe to assume they’ve used them on Levi as well. The rescue mission I’ve been sent on is more dangerous than I believed because I’m not just up against Genetics Incorporated; I’m here to rescue subhumans with suppressed abilities which could get messy in a big hurry.