Jeannie

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Jeannie groaned. That machine was really beginning to piss her off. It was worse than a song being stuck in her head on repeat, accompanying her to bed and greeting her as she awoke. If restraints weren't keeping her to the bed, she'd gladly destroy the monitor just to have a minute of peace.

She slowly opened her eyes, blinking past the crusties from the night before. For once, the lights were dimmed, not blinding her like an old torture device.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Ugh, she wished it would stop. Perhaps this was a method designed to drive her insane, or she'd gone to Hell for something she'd done in a past life. She was unable to move in her restraints, forced to listen to the steady heart monitor.

Her only reprieve was the blond man who continued to visit her when no one else was around. She wished she could remember him. There wasn't even a name to go with his face-just gold hair, emerald eyes, and a blood-stained blue shirt with a hideous salmon colored tie.

Once again, he sat by her side, watching her with an emotional gaze as he reached for her. The bed didn't shift with him, nor did she feel his touch, forcing her to accept he wasn't real. Whether he was a memory or a figment of her imagination, Jeannie welcomed his company. He couldn't release her from her personal Hell, but he showed her kindness no one else had bothered with.

"Hi," she murmured, reaching for him with a phantom hand that didn't exist before remembering once again, her arm was gone, cut off beneath the elbow.

Her mystery man rested his hand over hers, watching her with downturned lips. "You've forgotten me."

Jeannie looked up with a sigh, wishing she could move. She hated lying still for so long, losing track of time in the same place. Every now and then, the man came into her view, but she wasn't sure if she remembered what he looked like because she knew him or if she'd made him up.

"I can't even remember who I am. Is it forgetful if you're not real?"

"I'm real to you," he said softly.

"No one else can see you," she countered, unable to help her smile. He was her secret, and she enjoyed the confusion it caused the others who came for her. "I guess this makes me crazy if I'm speaking to myself since you're in my head."

"Maybe," he conceded, indicating he was also smiling. If Jeannie imagined hard enough, she almost believed this man's head had lowered to her ear or his breath tickled her ear as he whispered into it. "I love you, Jean Bean. Never forget that."

Before she could instinctively reciprocate the sentiment, the door to her room hissed open, followed by a set of footsteps. Her invisible friend disappeared, leaving Jeannie alone to face whatever new experiments her captors held in store for her today.

"Hello, Miss Adams. How are you feeling today?"

The familiar voice grated on her, making her scowl. She'd prefer her imaginary friend over this cold man.

As if on cue to his arrival, the vent overhead came on, blowing air across her body. Her gown was thinner than paper, allowing goosebumps to ripple across her flesh. Clothes-even a blanket would have been nice, except she hadn't once been permitted to leave her restraints. Someone came in each day to clean her up and change out the pad beneath her, completely taking away her independence.

She didn't know if this was by design, but she hated it. She felt violated, exposed, and most of all, trapped. Inhaling sharply through her nose, she clenched her fist. "I'm cold," she said, refraining from screaming at him.

She'd done that the first few days--she'd pleaded, cried, and begged for them to remove her constraints, to give her clothes that didn't consist of a flimsy cover, and freedom to see more than the lights overhead. When nothing changed, she assumed silence, answering only when the monitor beside her became too overwhelming.

Footsteps clacked over the floor to her left, and the pinching of the IV permanently attached to her hand was removed as the monitors suddenly went silent. The beeping that had become her only companion over the days echoed in her mind, ringing through her ears long after the equipment died.

Jeanie's head spun despite the straps holding her in place, and she had to squeeze her eyes closed to reorient herself. "Wha-what is this?"

A chair scraped across the tiled floor, breaking the routine of the blood pressure cuff he placed on her arm each day. Instead, the pressure on her neck and head suddenly disappeared, leaving Jeannie free to move. Now that she could do it though, the change frightened her. She still don't know where she was or anything about her surroundings. Everything she learned had been through sound.

"I am going to remove your restraints, Miss Adams, but you must promise not to resist or attack me, okay?"

Attack? Why would she do that? "O-of course."

"Good. I told Doctor Amari you weren't a danger. He's understandably cautious though since you're the first person to survive the virus this long."

Virus? Jeannie remembered them testing her, draining her blood, and constant questions, but until now, no one had told her why she was here. "I don't feel sick," she said, deciding to humor him.

"You still have no memories of your life before arriving here?"

She shook her head, noting he'd completely ignored her statement. "No."

Velcro ripped, and Jeanie's legs were free, followed by her arm and the rest of her body. It was too good to be true, and for a moment, all she could do was lie still.

"Can you sit up?"

It was difficult with one hand, but she still had both elbows, and shakily propped herself up. The walls were bare, as was the room with the exception of the equipment Jeannie had come to hate so much. A single metal chair sat beside her bed, and the soiled contents beneath her...

She wrinkled her face and watched the man beside her instead, dressed completely in black. His dark hair was cropped short, his green eyes were much too serious, and a gun was holstered to his side.

"You're not a doctor," Jeannie noted.

"No," he confessed, tilting his head to the side with a quirked lip. "But I'm the only person willing to come close to you."

"Because of this virus?"

He nodded, not making any move toward or away from her. "Yes. Everyone who is infected succumbs to it within three days. According to Dr Amari, you've managed to build some kind of immunity to it."

"How long has it been?"

"You arrived nine days ago."

Nine days. That's how long she'd been strapped down like a deer to the roof of a car. She'd been poked, prodded, and examined with no answers for over a week. It was a wonder she hadn't lost her mind, her imaginary friend aside.

"Why are you releasing me now?"

She couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice as she clutched the sheet with her only hand. Still, she wanted to know what was going to happen to her, and the only way to receive answers was to cooperate.

The man watched her with a passive expression, showing no emotion on his face. His eyes were so green-they reminded Jeannie of her phantom friend, filled with curiosity and a depth of something beneath the walls she couldn't quite pinpoint. There was no fear though. She wondered how he could so easily be near her while everyone else was afraid.

He leaned forward, clasping his hands together in his lap. "Miss Adams, there is so much we don't know about you. Dr Amari suggested you could still turn, but you're nothing like the others who have come through this facility. You've displayed no symptoms of the virus. Instead of a constant fever, you are freezing, you have no headaches or seizures, and you're still capable of speech. I may not be a doctor, but even I can tell you're different. I think you deserve a chance to move around, even if you're forced to confinement."

What was this virus, and why was she immune when everyone else died from it? If she had a sheet to cover herself with, she would have pulled one over herself as she drew her legs into her chest. Something about this place frightened her, but she couldn't ignore that she'd been kept alive for a reason.

"Were you the one taking my vitals every day? Drawing blood from me?"

He nodded. "No one else will come near you. The doctor says you're asymptomatic, but still a carrier. If we aren't careful, you could kill everyone here."

"I see," she said slowly, not really understanding why he'd risk releasing her restraints. "So what now? Does anyone even know I'm alive?"

He shrugged. "I'm only a soldier beneath the chain of command. I follow orders, which are to monitor you."

"So if the doctor orders you to jump without a bungee cable or a parachute, you'd do it?"

The man laughed. "No. I'm actually afraid of heights."

"But not me."

"No. Like I said, I've observed you for the last week, and I don't believe you're as dangerous as the doctor claims."

Jeannie shivered as another gust of air whooshed across her skin. "Is...this freezing temperature necessary?"

The man stood, reaching for a folded piece of fabric beside him. When he handed it to her, she noticed a pair of socks on top of a long, white robe. "I'm going to escort you to more permanent quarters where you can shower and dress in something more comfortable. The doctor wants to introduce you to liquid food before speaking to you about next steps."

Jeannie nodded, carefully sliding off the bed. Once on her feet, she stumbled, caught by the stranger. She noticed the latex gloves on his hands, protection to ensure he didn't catch her disease. Her throat tightened at the thought of being so repulsive, and she shoved against him. Her muscles were so weak, he did little more than sway as Jeannie's knees buckled and tears sprang to her eyes.

"Get away from me! I'll crawl if I have to."

The man ignored her, hefting her into his arms as if she weighed nothing. A glance at her amputated arm showed blood through a white bandage around her stump and a whiff of her unwashed body triggered her gag reflex. How he could stomach it was beyond her. Even if she wasn't missing an arm or carrying a deadly virus, she'd give herself a wide berth and pray for a shower.

"Miss Adams, you're being unreasonable," he said, reaching for a key card in his back pocket and unlocking the door.

"You've kept me locked up and tied down for nine days!" Jeannie struggled against his chest, but she might as well have been restrained to the bed for all the effort she made. Her heart raced with anxiety from so many unknowns-the man carrying her, who she was, and how she'd lost her arm. She had no way to know if he planned to hurt her.

He held her closer to his chest, and the scent of something that reassembled pine drifted into her nose. His muscles rippled beneath his arms as if he worked out daily, and his heartbeat was steady against her ear.

People in white lab coats stared as they passed, scurrying to move out of the way in the hallway. Their gazes were filled with disgust and fear, as if Jeannie would infect them simply by her proximity. The man ignored them, continuing along his way until they came to a large room. He carefully set her down, and she leaned into him, still unable to stand without help.

Like her previous room, it was undecorated with sterile white walls, but a small room adjoined hers behind a closed door, and the space inside was twice the size of her old room. A full-sized bed with its blankets and sheets already made sat in the center between two black night stands. A small dresser stood against the bare wall beside the second room with a rectangle mirror hanging over it. The only other piece of furniture was a small armchair near the bed.

Jeannie slowly took in her surroundings, unsure why she was here. "What is this?"

"This is where you'll be long-term."

"Am...am I a prisoner?"

Jeannie slowly turned, struggling to remain upright. The man reached for her waist to steady her, keeping her balanced while he watched her with a pinched expression. It was as if he knew something he didn't want to tell her.

She sighed. As much as she didn't like the situation, she could accept it if she knew what she was facing. "You can be honest with me. I'm not leaving this place, am I?"

He shook his head, locking eyes with her. "No. It was my idea to move you to a more comfortable room. I understand Dr Amari's concerns, but to continue treating you like some...experiment feels wrong. You're still a human being with basic rights."

"Won't you get in trouble?"

He shrugged, turning her back around and guiding her forward. "It's a risk I'm willing to take. Wrong is wrong, Miss Adams, and I cannot allow you to suffer if I can do something about it."

Jeannie took one slow step after another with the man's help until the reached the door. She struggled to turn the knob, unused to her left hand, but finally managed to open the door and push it open. The bathroom wasn't large, equipped with only a shower, toilet, and wash basin, but it would be adequate for her needs.

Logically, a room with accommodations didn't indicate a plan to eliminate her. The only question was what role she'd play if she wasn't permitted to interact with other people. "You don't have to help me," she said quietly. "I don't want you to be here if you're uncomfortable with me."

"You're weak and recovering from severe trauma," he said steadily. "You've been talking to yourself for over a week, whether it's because you're crazy or lonely, I can't say, but it would be wrong to leave you by yourself. I volunteered for this, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to help you adjust."

"Why?"

"Because I don't agree with the experiments. You shouldn't be forced to participate in this research if you're unwilling."

Something in his inflection dripped with venom, as if he'd experienced something similar or witnessed something so horrible, he was willing to sacrifice his safety for someone so dangerous.

This man was a stranger to her, yet Jeannie immediately knew she could trust him. He was upfront when he could have lied and promised her freedom. Instead, he told her the truth, giving her the choice to accept or deny it. "Will this doctor...will he hurt me?"

"No. As long as you don't show signs of turning, he wants to use you to find a cure. Would you be willing to help?"

She blew out a slow breath, leaning against him for support. A glance in the mirror revealed a wraith of a woman. Paler than a ghost, her ribs jutted out through her paper gown. Greasy, honey blonde hair hung in limp tangles past bony shoulders, and empty, brown eyes stared back from gaunt cheeks. She looked more like a ghost than a person. The most jarring sight was her arm, cut off just below the elbow, wrapped in a soiled bandage. It looked wrong beside her functional arm, a stump where the limb should have been.

"I'm afraid," she admitted. Her imaginary friend had deserted her, leaving a new man in his place, but with a hint of the same compassion as he watched her through the reflection. Still, he showed no sign of hesitation as he held her by the waist with both hands.

"I won't lie to you, Miss Adams. If the science team had their way, they'd dissect you. I believe you can save us, but only if we work together. You can't trust us if we don't meet you halfway."

She considered his words. She didn't know about everyone else, but she felt safer with him, whoever he was. "Do you promise not to hurt me?"

"Yes. You have my word."

"And what good is your word?"

"You have the word of a man who watched his sister die for the sake of humanity. If that's not good enough, I don't know what is."

She could accept that, especially as his hands tightened around her when he spoke. There was just one more thing she wanted if she was going to be stuck with him.

"What is your name?"

His gaze softened as he squeezed her hips. "Major Daniel Orson, formerly of the US Marine Corp. According to your files, you are Jeanine Adams, M.D., however, with no memory of who you are, if you'd like to take another name..."

She could shed her identity with her past. Everything before this was a question mark, but her future could be her own -- something she could control. And if no one knew was alive, there was no point in looking backward. "Okay...um, you can call me Echo."

Something about echos of her past and rising from the shadows appealed to her, and it felt perfect. Jeannie was a meaningless name — another thing she couldn't remember. She smiled as the name rolled off her tongue.

Daniel smiled as well as he guided her forward. "Alright then. Echo it is. Why don't we get you cleaned up? You stink."

Jeannie laughed. Anyone else would find him rude, but then, most people would run the other way if they could see her right now. So far, he was the only person she could trust in a labyrinth of strangers with ill intentions. If she was going to make it through whatever Dr Amari had in store for her, she needed a friend, even if he came in the form of a soldier only carrying out orders.