gets larger and larger, and the noise is growing louder, the light brighter, and the whirlpool closer—until suddenly my body breaks apart and I float out into something I cannot see or feel or hear. For one moment I feel solid but not whole, awake but not conscious, and then everything dips, dims, and is gone.
I come back into my body with a rush of vertigo so strong my stomach feels like it flips over, and I fall to my knees gagging. When I think I can move without being sick, I sit up in the quiet darkness.
I pull myself to my feet and grasp at the smooth metal of the walls. My head spins so much that I can barely tell which way is up, or where my body stops and the walls begin.
There’s a grinding noise when the door slides open. Light pours into the dark tube. I launch myself out of the machine and fall into a large room. The lights overhead are stark fluorescent white and the sirens have stopped. I scan the room, searching for the boy who was just here. Everything looks the same as it did before: white walls, tiled floors, large two-way mirror, and computer consoles pressed into metal desks—but no boy in black. I’m alone.
The door slides shut behind me. I turn to stare at it closing. I feel nauseous. I don’t know what just happened in that tube, but right now I need to get out of here. I run to the only door in the room and twist the handle hard. It opens easily and I glance into the empty hallway.
I hear footsteps approaching, then the sound of men speaking. I jump back into the room, frantically searching for a place to hide. I duck under one of the desks and notice a small crawl space behind a set of cabinets. I work my way into it, curling myself around the wires and dust that twist together on the floor.
The door opens. “There’s no one here,” a man with a deep voice says.
“Doctor Faust said there was activity. We have to check,” a second voice says.
“Maybe it was a glitch. This thing never seems to work right.” I hear the sound of a hand slapping against metal.
I hear footsteps coming closer, closer, and try to make myself as small as possible. The tip of a brown boot slides into my field of vision as one of the men approaches the desk. There’s the sound of fingers tapping a keyboard, and I struggle to keep my breathing quiet.
“Something happened here. The energy levels skyrocketed two minutes ago.”
“Wait, do you hear that?”
There’s a pause. I hear nothing but my own heartbeat throbbing in my chest, my throat, my fingertips.
“Nope. There’s no one here. Let’s take this to the general.”
“Maybe one of us should stay in case something else happens.”
“No need. These energy readings have to be a mistake. Let’s go.”
Footsteps fade away. The door shuts.
I wait a few seconds, then slide out from behind the cabinets, my heart still pounding. The guards could come back and realize their mistake at any moment. It’s time to get out of this room, out of this underground lab, and back outside, where my grandfather is waiting for me.
I slip out into the white hallway and mentally retrace my steps. Was it left after the first hallway, then right through the doorway, then left into the room? Am I forgetting a turn? Everything looks the same down here. It’s impossible to find any landmarks. Taking a chance, I turn left and sprint until I reach a door. I listen carefully but can’t hear any guards, so I push through it. Another white hallway.
I follow it as it curves to the left. The fluorescent lights lining the ceiling in two long rows burn bright above my head. I press my hand onto the concrete wall as I walk slowly. It’s shockingly quiet down here. Where have the guards gone?
And what about the boy from before? He’s the only one who saw me, and he had to have told his superiors by now. They must be down here somewhere, looking for me in this maze of hallways and strange rooms.
I pick up my pace as much as I dare. I come to another door and open it. It