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“What the fuck?” Jonas hisses. “Do you think this is where they did all the experiments?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t like it,” I murmur, and when I glance over, I see Louis and Nico finding the same labs on the other side.
It’s like one big laboratory, and it is totally empty. There are no signs of life, not even any poor experiments like us.
Where is everyone? Were we wrong? Feeling dejected, I keep moving, speeding up with each empty lab I pass. Jonas doesn’t protest, even though I know I’m being reckless. When I reach the stairs, I hurry up them, needing to see. A sharp command from Louis rings through the comm, but I ignore it.
There are more labs on this level, but they are bigger, with two on each side, taking up the entire place. The first two I pass are empty, with metal tables with bindings left forgotten and undone. I move across the metal walkway to the other side, finding the other labs unoccupied.
Dropping my gun, I lean over the edge to look down. “Clear. It’s all fucking empty. Maybe they knew we were coming again?” I call.
“Maybe,” Louis replies, looking around suspiciously. “Keep searching. Check everything. I want no surprises.”
I nod, and after checking the labs up here, Jonas and I return to the ones downstairs, each going into one alone.
There aren’t many places to hide, and even though I feel my ghosts rearing their heads at the stale air, the bright lights, and reminders of what I went through, I keep moving. Otherwise, I’ll break down.
We need to find the research and destroy it, but how can we when this man seems to know our every move? When he is prepared and already gone?
Dad was right, he’s dangerous, but we are fucking deadly, and we will end this. I have to believe that or we are fighting for nothing.
We search lab after lab, each one only making me more furious. It’s clear they have been used. Was my father here? If so, then why couldn’t he just give me a fucking list of places to destroy if he really wanted to make this right?
Is this all one big game?
I’m tired of fucking playing.
I want to win.
Past the labs, I check the kitchen, finding half-eaten food and water on the table and counters. A door clicks behind me, and I swing around with inhuman speed, my gun raised.
There, with one hand on the door and the other gripping a bloody knife, is a man.
He’s dressed in army fatigues and coated in blood and sweat. His short blond hair is sweaty and stuck to his head, and his face is pale. His eyes are wide, but with pain, not fear, and something else.
Shock, I realise.
He’s tall, taller than even me, and built like a Mack truck.
It’s clear he’s military from the way he moves and the clipped bark that comes. “Who are you?” he demands, his voice thick with a Scottish accent.
“I should be asking you that,” I respond calmly, still looking at him down my gun.
I could call out, but he could attack faster. I can take him, and he’s obviously injured and weak. Who knows how long he’s been here? He could be half crazy, but I’m faster and stronger, so I drop the gun and arch an eyebrow.
“I’m here to find out what the fuck they were doing here,” I say, telling him the truth.
Laughing, he drops the knife with a groan and slides down the wall with an audible thump. His legs are oddly bent, like he can’t move them anymore. It’s then I spot the first-aid kid to the side, used and covered in blood.
“Then you found it . . .” He gestures at himself and then promptly passes out.
Shit!
“Guys!” I yell as I rush to his side. I press my fingers to his clammy skin, focusing on the steady thump of his pulse. Pushing up his shirt, I search his chest, finding multiple wounds and even a surgery site. It’s clear he tried to close them and fix himself.
I sit back and eye him.
Is he an experiment?
