The look on Dr. Schwartz's face was that of contentment as red begin to ooze from the ice pick that pierced his chest. His dark, beady eyes locked on to mine, and I backed away when his hand encircled the handle of the instrument to yank it from his chest.

A splatter of hot red liquid misted my face. I jolted and retreated backwards until an object at my rear startled me. I had absentmindedly retreated into one of the poor, helpless women who remained asleep and strapped to the slab on the wall.

I eyed the drawer where the other surgical equipment lay, in preparation of the doctor's attack. But instead of rushing me or taking a step at all, he opened his mouth to say something and only a steady flow of viscous blood seeped from his thin lips before he collapsed to the floor.

He lay motionless as the puddle of red quickly spewed from his mouth and the hole in his chest to gather in a large puddle beneath him.

My heart raced as I eyed him in shock. I couldn't collect my thoughts let alone my emotions as pure disbelief and horror paralyzed me.

"Jo?" Mom called from beyond the door. "Please, Jo?"

I was about to step over him and run out the door until the alarm on one of the monitors blared, the way it had done in my room. The sirens were so loud, I placed my hands over my ears to dull the pain. Still, the shrieking alarms were disorienting as I backed into a corner to get my bearings and assess the room.

Within a few short seconds, the computer let out a hiss before the metal surrounding the machine released, twisted, twirled, coiled and shifted into a mockup of the machine that came alive in my room. The sound of metal clanking and bolts fastening echoed in the space as the alarms finally ceased. With wide eyes, I watched as the long metal arms extended from the body of the machine and it glided from its position between the other monitors to stand before Dr. Schwartz's lifeless body.

Would it attack me for attacking the doctor? Would it attempt to hold me in place until it notified authorities? My heart raced and my breathing became rapid at the thought.

It bent, flipped and shifted the mechanical parts of itself in order to grasp the doctor's body in its claws like hands and scoop him up to cradle him in its steel arms. Red continued to drip from Dr. Schwartz and on parts of the machine as it effortlessly carried his limp body toward the door. The door opened as if triggered by an invisible signal when the machine moved close, which allowed it passage through the door and out into the hall.

Mom's gasp crept in from the hall followed by a thud.

I picked up the bloodied ice pick and quickly exited the room to see Mom collapsed on the tiles near the door. I rushed to her side, seeing her chest rise and fall with her rapid breaths. She must've fainted from witnessing a life-sized machine carry Dr. Schwartz's dripping, lifeless body. Convinced that she would soon awaken, and determined to find a way out, I set my eyes on the machine as it turned the corner to disappeared down another hall. 

With fear and uncertainty settling in my throat, and adrenaline and curiosity fueling me, I followed the machine and the sporadic drips of blood it left down the long hall into another, keeping a safe distance.

Although the machine had awakened, it didn't seem bothered by my presence. It was as if it had one duty and chose to fulfill that duty over any other.

Nearly tiptoeing down the brightly lit hall, being sure to avoid the drops of blood on the polished tiles, I kept my grip tight on my weapon and my sights on the machine as it rolled down the hall nearly silent. Being cautious of possible staff members or other machines, I quickly turned the hall to see the door to a room wide open. I spotted the clusters of red drips of red in the entryway that confirmed Dr. Schwartz was taken inside.

Ever so slowly, I crept forward, hearing commotion coming from the room and the sound of another door opening and closing inside.

As I was about to enter, the even, rhythmic sound of footsteps ahead of me froze me in place. Who else could be here? Since escaping from my room and roaming the halls there haven't been one sign of a person other than Mom and Dr. Schwartz.

For a second, curiosity kept me planted, but the door to the room slowly closing on its hinges urged me to move. No longer conflicted, I took a step toward the open door. The footsteps finally ceased at the end of the hall ahead of me as Dr. Schwartz pivoted around the corner like a silver-haired solider and paused.

I gasped, bringing my hand to my heart.

He wore his infamous, crisp white lab coat and thin rimmed glasses, yet neither was soiled or stained with blood. In fact, he gave off no sign that he had ever been injured. My damaged, fragile mind had to be playing tricks on me.

"Jovial—" he started, and I didn't stick around to listen. I ducked into the room and locked the door. I rested against the metal and waited for his footsteps to approach or the door lever to turn. After a few seconds of silence, I took in a relaxing breath before quickly turning to evaluate the space.

The room was bright and housed a large metal desk with several electronic tablets and a collection of menial odds and ends arranged on the top. Three large, flat screens stretched from one end of the desk to the other. The room had been set up like a medical doctor's office with a life-size plastic display of the skeletal system in one corner and a display of the organs of the human body in another.

In the back of the office was a closed door. I glanced at the base of the door where fresh red splotches stood out against the bright white tiles.

With my weapon still in hand, I made my way around to glance at the large monitors and better see what it was relaying onscreen.

My eyes widened as I focused in on the several small rectangular screens relaying videos it was capturing from a live surveillance system. The videos showed images of the rooms and halls. Some of the rooms I recognized, and one hall in particular caught my eyes as Mom remained unconscious on the tiles.

A realization hit me. All this time the doctor had been keeping video records. Curiously, I pressed the screen to switch between cameras. The cameras must've been well hidden because I haven't seen one since waking. Remembering Dr. Schwartz used the computer to order Mom to come to my room for our first visit upon initially waking. "Send Ms. Spencer back to room two-thirty-seven, please."

I found that room number and enlarged the video onscreen. The camera was angled directly in front of the now empty bed as if it were attached to the room's computer. I pressed a number and the image flipped to another angle, then pressed again to see yet another angle. Were there ten cameras in each of the rooms? Was he watching and aware of what was taking place this entire time?

I flipped through the cameras seeing hall after hall, and room after room, until I spotted what I was looking for. The exit. At the end of a hall, above a door was a red sign that announced it.

If he had video surveillance of the entire facility, why couldn't he find me when I escaped my room? With easy access to his computer, I clicked around searching for information that may spark a light on the murkiness. Finally, I opened a file labeled, "Rebirthing Program."

It opened up several more documents. I quickly skimmed the most recent files. Reading all my eyes could take in.

Subject does not have an urge to eat. Subject craved liquid refreshment only due to the damaged neurotransmitter at the base of the brain that resulted in a side effect of smelling burnt almonds.

Removing tissue from the cerebellum and severing nerves from the hippocampus are necessary in both the Deep Sleep treatment and the Rebirthing program, resulting in similar side effects. To prevent a common side effect of aphasia, subject's brain had been altered to include vocabulary, communication, and syntax boost. Probability of communication success: High. Recollection of memory is improving only with the assistance and prompting from subject's caretaker. Probability of successful recollection: Low.

Subject's implanted false memory involving being sentenced to the Deep Sleep program by the courts remains to be a firm belief in subject. To get subject to recollect true memories, subject will undergo the risky Recollection treatment. Subject will be permitted to physically act out her prior mission. Permission has been granted by subject's caretaker and the agreement officially signed.

I thought of Mom as I took in the last entry.

Subject's memory has not returned despite physician and caregiver's efforts. Termination of experiment is highly recommended.

Before I could let the information process, noise from the room behind me grabbed my attention. The sound of moving objects enhanced my curiosity. I left the monitors behind to creep toward the closed door behind me, positive that the machine and Dr. Schwartz were inside.

They had to be.

The figment outside was not real, it was a product of stress, exhaustion and whatever damage he had caused. Putting the ice pick in the doctor's chest was real. I felt every millimeter pierce every layer of skin, muscle and bone before settling in his heart.

I put my ear to the door before pushing it open and immediately stumbled back when the machine glided past as if not concerned with my presence. It maneuvered successfully around the large desk and security monitors and toward the door leading to the main hallway. The door opened by itself, and the machine continued on through as if returning to its original spot.

I feared who or what would walk in from the hall, so I quickly ran over to close and lock the door. Feeling a bit safer, I went back to the adjacent room to peer inside.

This time I couldn't hold back my scream or my panic. Arranged along the walls of the large room were dozens of bodies, just like the males and females in the other rooms. But this room particularly house several replicas of Dr. Schwartz all in the same white and crisp lab coat except for two.

One of the exceptions was strapped to the wall with an ice pick sized hole in his chest. The other was missing several fingers on one hand and still had a look of agony in his dark, beady eyes. Still, one space on the wall was vacant as the thick straps dangled at the sides of the unoccupied slab.

~~~

Continue on to the final chapter! But first, share your thoughts.