Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Subject 89

“Welcome back.” 

My eyes snapped open. Huh? 

“Would you like to answer a few questions?” 

God, my head was throbbing. Blinding white light flooded my vision, blurry as I blinked rapidly, trying to reduce the headache. 

What the hell? 

“Excuse me. I believe I got carried away.” 

“What—” 

“Welcome back.” 

I sat up then, trying to take in my surroundings. My god, this headache was not making it easy. Despite that, though, I could make out a blinking red light tucked in a corner of the room.  Before I could process anything else, the disembodied voice repeated itself. 

“Welcome back.” 

“What is this?” 

“There is a uniform in the corner of your room, should you wish to cover up.”

It was then, that I finally realized that I’d been stupidly blinking around the room totally naked. Instinctively, I threw my hands protectively over my crotch. I mean, it was probably useless since I’d been out for God knows how long. 

Still, if I could control anything, it was how much of me they were going to keep seeing.  Whoever “they” were. 

Keeping my hands over my…you know, I stood, walking over to the small table with the folded fabric on top, the same one the voice was talking about. Turning away from the camera, I dropped my hands, picked up the uniform—a dark blue jumpsuit—and slipped it on, grateful for the coverage. 

I might’ve been grateful for a pair of boxers too, but beggars can’t be choosers. 

“Perfect,” that stupid robotic voice said, “You will answer a few questions now.

“Can I ask you some questions?” 

“Question one: What is your name?” 

I scoffed. That was the first question? 

I opened my mouth to respond, to show the robotic voice that whatever this was was clearly a mistake. But as I reached back, trying to come up with something as easy as my freaking name, I came up empty. 

“I—” 

“Perfect. Question two: how old are you?”

“Where am I?” I didn’t have a single clue how old I was, but if I couldn’t come up with answers, maybe I could ask my own questions. 

“Question three: where are you from?” 

I hated that my mind came up blank again. I still knew basic geography, I guess. I knew about North America and Europe and Africa, and that the USA had fifty states, but I had no clue where I was from. 

It was as if someone—whoever was on the other end of that stupid freaking voice—had reached into my brain and plucked out every personal thought or memory. Anything that made me was gone. 

“What did you do to me?” Panic had set in, clawing its way up my insides. I looked around the room—this white, soulless room with one bed and a bucket beside it. There was no door. Why was there no door? 

“What did you do to me?” I said louder, nearly yelling this time. 

But the voice remained silent. It couldn’t wait to interrupt me before and now it wanted to play the quiet game. Love that. 

At the corner with the blinking red light, came a soft thud before a small slit in the wall opened. I rushed toward it, reaching my hand in to see if that was my ticket out, but my fingers just grazed smooth walls and an empty space. 

Only…it wasn’t entirely empty. I slid a cream-colored folder out from the slit.

Hands trembling, I opened it, reading the paper on the inside. 

D.R. – PROPERTY OF THE ILLUMINA INSTITUTE: Subject 89 

FULL NAME: Declan Reed 

AGE: 14 

SEX: Male 

RACE: White (American) 

EYE COLOR: Brown 

HAIR COLOR: Black 

HEIGHT: 5’7 

WEIGHT: 145lbs 

There was a space at the bottom where an inky black fingerprint shone on the white paper. When did I give them my fingerprint? What else had I—had Declan Reed—given them? 

I scanned over the text again. And again. And again, hoping that this time there would be something other than the basics. So, my name was Declan. Great. Not that I had any clue who that really was, but great. Who cared how tall I was when I had no freaking clue how I ended up here? 

Paper-clipped to the back of the sheet was a squared-sized picture of a boy. 

The face—the stupid unfamiliar face—stared back at me with dark brown eyes. His skin was the same pale white as my hands, a stark contrast to the unruly black hair that came down over his eyebrows and ears. The boy’s narrow cheeks and long pointy nose reminded me of a rat. 

Me. Declan. Whatever.

I hated him and his stupid rat face. Hated that I didn’t recognize him. That I didn’t know anything about him. 

I was about to scan the paper again, hoping this time I would discover some secret new line that gave me real answers about this place, the voice, anything. Before I could, though, a muffled sound caught my attention. 

A voice through the wall opposite where the bed was. Distant and fuzzy, but unmistakably human. 

Human. 

I rushed to the wall, pressing my ear against it so I could hear the voice better. “LET ME THE HELL OUT!” 

My heart skipped a beat. Someone else was here. Someone trapped and confused and who knew what else. 

Just like me. 

The voice kept yelling and cursing, begging to be let out. My breath caught. It was a girl. Without a second thought, I blurted out, “Hello? Hello? Anyone there?” 

I just hoped she could hear me over the sound of her desperate cries. 

The shouting stopped. A moment of silence hung between the walls. Then, “Hello?”

My heart soared. It was stupid. It sure as hell didn’t sound like this girl knew any more about what was going on than I did, but at least I wasn’t alone anymore. 

“Hey. Hi,” I breathed. “I’m Declan Reed.” 

“Did you put me here?” 

I shook my head, then, realizing she couldn’t see me, I said, “I just woke up. I don’t know  what’s going on.” 

She was quiet. I forged on, “Did you hear the voice?” 

“The one with the questions?” The girl scoffed. “Yeah, big help that was.” 

“Did you find your uniform?” I won’t tell you the thought that ran through my mind when I asked her that. 

“Yeah. Not sure why they couldn’t have put it on us in the first place.” 

Despite everything, I laughed. “I probably traumatized whoever was on the other end.” 

She didn’t laugh, exactly, but, if I strained, I could just make out the unmistakable sound of a chuckle. 

“How do I know I can trust you, Declan Reed?” 

I swallowed hard. “You can’t.” I paused, searching for the right words. “But I’m in the same boat as you. I have no clue who I am or how I got here. I just want to find a way out.”

The silence stretched between us again, and part of me wondered if she had just turned around and decided to ignore me. But then, “I’m Lyla.” 

A sigh of relief escaped my lips. “Declan.” 

“You already said that.” 

Right. “We’ll figure this out.” And then, even though I could tell she still didn’t trust  me—even though I wasn’t even sure how much I could trust myself—I added, “I promise.”