The roller door of the factory began to rise and she watched a man come into view, standing there holding the death switch on the side wall. He wore a white lab coat and black pants. His hands and face were pale, his features soft and bland like a defined crash-test dummy. He had a half smile and simply said: “Miss Moore,” the way a doctor calls you from a waiting room. She stood up, cradling her baby close. She bounced Heather in her arms like a shield as if to say, ‘don’t hurt me, I’m with child.’
“How did you know my name?”
“You called us earlier. You said you were coming in.”
“I did?”
“You did.”
Embarrassed, she began to believe him.
“Of course I did. That’s right.”
“Come this way, Miss Moore. We have many questions to ask you.”
She was lead into a portable office, the type commonly used on construction sites, and asked to sit down on a plastic chair before a desk. She was given a glass of water, which she downed in one go, desperately thirsty. The man introduced himself.
“I’m Dr. Ferngehn, operations assistant. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Vanessa.” He sat down behind the desk and pulled from the drawer several pieces of paper stapled together at the corner. He began by asking her name, getting her to spell it out. Then her address, occupation, he asked if she had any close relatives staying with her. She answered thoroughly, wanting to seem as capable and enthusiastic about the program as possible, worried her drug use would come under speculation. The questions veered towards what seemed irrelevant to Vanessa.
“How do you know Adam?” Dr. Ferngehn asked.
“Adam? I work with him. I know him from work.”
“He drove you here, is that correct?”
“Yes. What’s he got to do with anything?”
“Not much really, we just like to know how test subjects are referred to us.”
“Oh, ok.”
“And your child, does your child have any special needs?”
“Heather’s fine. My baby won’t be getting involved in… whatever it is I’m doing here. What am I doing here?”
“Your baby will be fine, we just don’t want the thing dying on us while you’re incapacitated.”
“Excuse me? Inca-what?” She began to panic.
“Please, go sit.” He pointed to a small couch at the rear of the office.
“I am sitting.”
“Yes,” he smiled, “but in a moment you’re going to pass out and we think the couch is a better place to do this.”
She looked at the empty glass on the bench.
“Go and sit down, Vanessa.”
She clutched her baby tight in her arms and stood up, wondering if she could make it out of the office and flee, but standing only made the drugs work faster, and she stumbled onto the couch. She looked down at her baby.
“Whatever you do, please don’t hurt my child.”
She made herself comfortable knowing that soon she’d be too drugged to move. Her mind filled with vague ideas of what strange atrocities possibly awaited. She began to mumble a lullaby, perhaps for the baby, but more for herself. She just wanted her mummy to come and tell her everything was going to be okay.
Chapter 7
Vanessa woke up strapped to a bed in a dark room. The walls were made of concrete and soaked from rainwater seeping through the shabby iron roof. There was nothing in there but a toilet and a small hand basin with a blot of flattened glue above it where a mirror used to be. She could hear wheels moving toward the door outside. The door opened and another man came in, wheeling a television on a steel frame. He was tall and thin with white blonde hair, sharp features you could cut glass with, and baby blue eyes.
“I am Dr. Phalanx. You can call me Gerald.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“Watch.”
He plugged the television into a power socket and pressed play. The screen flickered to an image of long grass.
“I don’t understand,” she argued. “Where’s my child?”
“Your child is fine,” he said. “Watch the video.”
The video went from the thick grass to a clearing where a large python lay, slowly consuming a goat, headfirst. There was no sound on the video, just the silent swallowing of a full sized goat by an enormous python.
“I think you have the wrong video.”
“This is the right video.”
“Where is my baby?”
Dr. Phalanx put his finger up to his mouth then he pointed at the television. “Watch.” Vanessa watched the video.
After some time she began to seriously panic and started thrashing around in the bed but soon exhausted herself.
“What? It’s a fucking snake eating a goat. What about it? What is going on, you fucking psycho?”
The Doctor stood there and stared at her with a little twinkle in his eye. He looked at the snake on the screen, finally enveloping the goat inside its body. He raised a little pale finger and held it before him like a glowing stick of magic. He slowly moved his finger towards the screen and pointed directly at the snake.
“This is what you will become.”
He turned the television off, unplugged it and wheeled it out of the room without another word.
“Where’s my child? Who the fuck
The door closed with a heavy thud and the room was dark once again. She began to cry. She comforted herself with the idea that it was some kind of psychological experiment where everything would be ok in a minute; that she was just being toyed with. She looked around the room for cameras recording her every move, but it was too dark to see such a thing. She wished she could remember the conversation with Adam that had brought her there, although it occurred to her then that perhaps it had never happened.
Chapter 8
Detective Gill heard the call on the fax machine from the breakfast table.
“What could that be?” his wife asked.
“I had the office fax over a photo of the girl I’m looking for,” he said, walking into the study.
“Well, that seems like a good start,” she said, not exactly joking.
He took the page from the fax and turned it over to examine the girl. It was a photo from her graduating year. Her hair was long and dark, her teeth white.
The phone rang in the kitchen.
“It’s like a call centre in here,” his wife said. Gill listened to her stand up and pick up the phone. “Hello?”
Silence.
“Graham,” she yelled, “it’s for you.”
