The Middlewych Experiment Page 10

  Brain.

  Damn, now I'm hungry again.

  Suddenly the dumpster's lid opens. I scream, but then I see a very human-looking figure silhouetted against the sky, and as my eyes adjust to the light I realize that Dean's staring down at me with a bemused look on his face.

  “Annie?” he says cautiously. “What are you doing?”

  Staring up at him, I realize that I have absolutely no answer to that question. I guess I'll have to pretend that I simply fell in, and I'll have to hope that he buys the story, but right now I can only manage to offer a very faint smile. I honestly don't know what's happening to me, but something definitely isn't quite right in my head. I'm goddamn weird, is what I am.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  At least Dean didn't send me home.

  Standing at the counter, I look up at the clock and see that it's almost midnight. I'm halfway through my shift now, having showered in the employees' room, and Dean managed to find me a spare uniform that sort of almost fits. I could tell that he didn't really buy my claim to have simply fallen into the dumpster, but fortunately he didn't press too hard. I guess I've built up some goodwill over the time that I've been working here, although I can't afford too many more strange incidents.

  I need to get my head straight.

  “Still no-one?” Fletcher calls out from the kitchen.

  I look over my shoulder.

  “Just us,” I tell him. “If you want to take a smoking break, I can manage for a while.”

  “No, you're alright,” he replies. “I'm trying to quit, anyway.”

  “I'm thinking about trying to start,” I mutter under my breath, as I head over to the ice machine. “Right now, I could do with something that'd take the edge off.”

  Just as I'm about to start cleaning the machine, I hear the door opening. Figuring that at least a customer will provide some welcome respite, I give my hands a quick wipe before heading back to the counter. I open my mouth to deliver the usual Moolio's greeting, but then I hesitate as soon as I see the customer coming toward me.

  It's her.

  It's the girl who was sitting on the toilet last night, while I was getting ready to jump out the window.

  “Hi,” she says with a smile. “I'm so glad you guys are still open, I really need a burger.” She pauses, and then she furrows her brow slightly. “Hey, have we met before?”

  Staring at her, I can't help feeling as if this situation feels strangely familiar. There's a weird sensation that I've felt several times today, a sensation of deja vu. It's as if I'm experiencing memories from some other life, flashes of things that I know can't actually have happened, but which feel so incredibly real. Even now, as I look at this girl, I feel certain that I've served her in the restaurant before, that we've stood right here before.

  “You okay?” she asks finally.

  “Fine,” I lie.

  “You don't seem it. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

  “I'm sorry?”

  “Is there anything you want to talk about? Anything at all?”

  I'm not sure how to react. Something about that question, or perhaps about the way it was asked, makes me feel that this girl seems strangely intense. She's barely even blinking as she keeps her eyes fixed on me, and I'm starting to worry that maybe she's trying to read my mind. Not that mind-reading's actually a thing, of course, but this has already begun to turn into a pretty weird day.

  “It's okay to feel off,” she says suddenly, apparently keen to give me some advice. “It happens to us all. Some days just seem stranger than others, and you end up kinda doubting yourself. The important thing is just to keep going. The strangeness always fades eventually, and you'll end up getting right back on-track. Just try to zone out of anything that doesn't feel normal.”

  I wait for her to continue, or at least to get to some kind of point, but she falls silent.

  “Thanks,” I murmur, not really wanted to admit to her that now she's one of the reasons why I feel uncomfortable. “So, what was it exactly that you wanted tonight?”

  “Just a Moolio's double meal, please,” she replies, still staring at me. “To go.”

  “Coming right up.”

  She hands me some cash, and then I go over to start putting her meal into a bag. I can't shake the feeling that she's watching me, and to be honest I just want her to take her meal and leave. I'm suddenly hyper aware of my every move, as if I'm being judged and analyzed, and the process of getting the meal together – which actually only takes a couple of minutes – seems to stretch out and last an eternity. In fact, by the time I get back to the counter I'm actually starting to feel as if all this attention is causing my skin to tingle.

  And, of course, she's still staring at me.

  “There you go,” I say. “Have a nice night.”

  “You're doing really well, Annie,” she replies, which is strange since I'm not even sure that I gave her my name. “I'm Larisa, by the way. I come here quite a lot, so I hope you'll feel that you can talk to me about anything that concerns you.” She reaches over to take a plastic fork from one of the containers. “Think of me as a kind of therapist. People are always telling me that I'm really good at listening to their problems, and I kinda like to pay things forward sometimes. So you shouldn't feel as if you're -”

  Suddenly she lets out a pained gasp, and I turn to see that the edge of the fork container has come away and cut the side of her finger.

  “Piece of crap!” she hisses, examining the small wound and then wiping away a bead of blood.

  “I'm so sorry,” I say, grabbing the container and moving it around to my side of the counter. “I don't know how that could have happened. I'll check them all immediately, to make sure that no-one else can get hurt.”

  “It's nothing,” she mutters, although she seems a little annoyed as she sucks some blood from the wound.

  “Let me take a look,” I say, picking up a napkin and going around the counter to help her. As I do so, I can't help staring at the blood on Larisa's finger and feeling as if it's calling to me.

  “Honestly,” she replies, “I -”

  “Let me see!”

  Taking her hand forcefully, I wipe the blood away while just about managing to control myself. I want to drink from the wound directly, but I also know that she'd get totally freaked out. Once I've wiped all the blood onto the napkin, I take a step back, and I feel my hunger starting to fade.

  “Thanks,” Larisa says cautiously, and then she grabs her food. “Really, it was nothing. I'll probably pop in again tomorrow, though, so if there's anything you want to talk about, remember... I'm all ears!”

  She hesitates, as if she's expecting me to blurt out my deepest thoughts and fears right now, and then she turns and walks away. I watch her get all the way outside, before I finally give in to temptation and lick the bloodied napkin. Even just the faintest hint of blood is enough to send bursts of pure pleasure coursing through my body, as if for some reason I have this really strong need for blood.

  Finally, after tossing the napkin into the bin, I head over and take another look at the fork container that caused the cut in the first place. I really don't understand how it could have broken like this, especially not with enough force to actually cut Larisa's finger. I consider the possibilities for a moment, and then I start looking around the empty serving area.

  “Hello?” I whisper, starting to wonder whether maybe some invisible force might have been responsible. “Are you there?”

  I wait, just in case the voice returns. It's kind of creepy to look around and wonder whether some invisible guy is watching me. I tell myself again that something like that isn't possible, of course, but now there's this slowly growing fear that's starting to eat away at the back of my mind, telling me that maybe – just maybe – this is all really happening.

  “So that's a no, right?” I continue, turning to look the other way. “Yeah? You're not here. Are you?”

  Suddenly hearing a bumping sound, I turn an
d see that Fletcher has come through from the kitchen area. From the look on his face, it's pretty clear that he saw me talking to myself.

  “I'm going to clean the ice machine,” I tell him, figuring that there's no point trying to come up with some dumb excuse. “Someone's gotta sort that bad boy out, right?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Finally, after a mammoth shift, I walk out of Moolio's and start making my way home. Morning sunlight is starting to warm the air, but I still find myself zipping my jacket up as I head along the sidewalk. I feel like a zombie, and all I can think is that I'm going to head home and get some serious sleep.

  And then I see it.

  Up ahead, there's a black car parked at the side of the road. Its windows are tinted, and I immediately realize that I'm getting a really strange vibe from this thing. I slow my pace a little, and I consider crossing the road before finally telling myself that I should just act natural. Still, as I walk past the vehicle, I can't help glancing at the window and feeling as if I'm being watched. All I see, of course, is my own reflection, and my own worried expression.

  Once I'm past the car, I start to relax a little, but I still glance over my shoulder as I get to the corner. The car hasn't moved, so at least no-one seems to be following me. I watch the car for just a moment longer, before turning and making my way onto the next street.

  Suddenly I slam into something, although when I take a step back I don't see anyone at all.

  “Damn it!” a voice hisses, and I realize it's the same voice that I heard before. “Sorry, my fault. That's the problem with being invisible, you have to really make sure that you keep out of everyone's way.”

  I look around, trying not to panic.

  “Just start walking,” the voice continues, still sounding a little pained. “The reason those goons sit around in the open like that is that they're trying to lull you into a false sense of security whenever you can't see them.”

  “Where are you?” I stammer.

  The answer comes in the form of a shove to the small of my back, and I start walking. I still feel completely freaked out by this whole situation, but I'm determined to make sure that I don't act like a complete lunatic in public. Maybe this voice is real, maybe it's not, but I'm at least going to keep some dignity.

  “So that was a fun night, huh?” the voice says. “Plenty to keep you on your toes.”

  “Were you there?” I ask.

  “I popped in.”

  “Did you hurt that Larisa girl?”

  I keep walking, but there's no reply.

  “Did you?” I say firmly.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “I don't know, but it seemed suspicious.”

  “I just popped by to check on you early in the night,” he replies, “but I was long gone before any Larisa person showed up. Scout's honor. I've got better things to do than cut someone's finger for a laugh.”

  “If you didn't do it,” I say, “how do you know it was her finger?”

  “Don't act like she didn't deserve it. You've met her before, right?”

  “Yeah. I mean...”

  My voice trails off as I try to remember. I know I met Larisa at the party, but I can't shake the feeling that I knew her some time earlier as well.

  “Your memory's still a little off,” the voice continues. “Fighting it will only make it worse. Let it relax, and you should improve soon. I was there for your little escapade in the dumpster. What exactly was going through your mind, anyway?”

  “I was hungry,” I tell him.

  “So you decided to eat rotten meat?”

  “I can't explain it,” I mutter. “Something just seemed to come over me.”

  “No kidding. You got bitten by a zombie a while back, remember?”

  “Huh?”

  I stop and turn to look back at where the voice was coming from, but at that moment I see the black car creeping around the corner. I'm definitely being followed, and I stare for a moment before turning and starting to walk again.

  “Smart choice,” the voice says. “They're really going for it this morning, huh?”

  “Who are they?” I ask, my voice filled with tension.

  “They're our old buddies from the base, although I know you don't remember them. Listen, I should have said this before, but if anyone asks about me... You've not heard from me. Understood?”

  “Who are you?”

  “I'm your buddy Lester Graves.” I feel a gentle, friendly nudge against my shoulder. “Believe it or not, Annie, you and I go back a long way. We were both captives in that place, and sometimes we got talking. I'm older than you, obviously, and I guess I kinda took you under my wing for a while.”

  “This isn't happening,” I whisper, as I hear the car edging closer behind me. “I've never heard of anyone named Lester Graves.”

  “See, I can't tell you the whole deal right now,” he replies, “on account of not wanting to give you a total breakdown. I think you sense it's true, though. Somewhere deep inside, there's a part of you that knows I'm not talking total crap. Now, hang on, and don't say anything while the car goes past. I really don't want to give them any indication that I'm here.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, but then the car trundles right past me and I glance at the black windows.

  There's something in there, staring out at me. I swear I can feel a gaze burning into my face, and for a moment I continue to stare at the car before – finally – I force myself to look straight ahead instead. The car's already starting to pull away ahead, and a moment later it takes a left turn and disappears from view.

  “Phew,” the voice says, “did you see that? They're really full of themselves.”

  “I'm just a normal person,” I reply. “Why would anyone be following me?”

  “That's too complicated to explain right now,” he tells me. “Listen, I just wanted to let you know that I've got a plan, okay? I've figured out what they're gonna do next, and I'm gonna be ready, so just trust me. You can do that, can't you?”

  “I'm not sure whether I -”

  “Oh, and whatever you do, stop taking the pills. You know the ones for your allergies? Well, they're nothing to to with allergies, they actually suppress your memories. I meant to tell you that before, but I forgot. Call me crazy, but I think you could do with getting your memories back, at least some of the basics. Don't be scared when you start to remember, either. It'll be a lot to take in, but you won't just remember the bad things, you'll also remember the hope, and the determination, and the fact that you're strong enough to fight.”

  “This all sounds insane,” I tell him.

  “Of course it does.” I feel him patting my shoulder. “Listen, now I've warned you about the pills, I have to get going. This plan isn't going to sort itself out. I'll be around, though, and I'll try to help you understand more once your memory's coming back. I've missed you, Annie. You're good for bouncing ideas around. Okay, gotta go.”

  “I don't have memory problems,” I reply. “I remember everything from my life just fine.”

  I wait, but he doesn't say anything.

  “Are you still there?” I ask, before realizing that he's gone again.

  I think.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  They're screaming, howling with pain. Stopping at the end of the corridor, I see a row of cells up ahead, and each cell contains something different. In one, there's a wolf that's furiously trying to break through the bars, while in another there's a huge, angry bear. Frozen for a moment, too scared to move, I look over at another cell and see some kind of hideously rotten figure that's desperately trying to reach through the bars and grab me. In yet another cell, there's a green-skinned creature staring at me intently, glistening all over its body, watching me as if it's just waiting for a chance to get to me and eat me.

  “It's okay,” a voice says suddenly, right behind me. “Don't be scared.”

  I spin around.

  ***

  Opening my eyes, I gasp as I r
oll onto my right side. Jolted awake from a nightmare, I stare across my room for a moment as I wait for my heart to stop racing. That dream was so clear and vivid, and even now I can see the horrific figures that were trapped in those cells.

  In the tank on my desk, my newts are going about their business as if they don't have any cares in the world. Lucky them.

  A moment later, hearing a tapping sound, I sit up and look over at the window. I tell myself that I mustn't jump to conclusions, but then I see something moving and I hear the tapping sound return, and I realize that someone's trying to get my attention.

  I climb out of bed and shuffle across the room, and then I part the curtains open. Daylight streams into the room, momentarily blinding me. The problem with night-shifts is that you end up getting all out of sync with the world. Once I'm used to the light, however, I lean closer to the glass and peer outside. To my surprise, I see the Larisa girl from the restaurant standing down on the ground, smiling and waving at me, and then she indicates that she wants me to slide the window open. I'm reluctant, but then I realize that despite her weirdness she doesn't actually seem dangerous, so I unlock the window and slide it open.

  “Hey,” I say, “what are you doing here? How do you know where I live?”

  “I want to show you something,” she replies. “Come on, let's go.”

  “I'm kind of busy.”

  “You were asleep.”

  “That's a kind of busy.”

  “So? Some things can only be seen at a certain time of day. You're not a chicken, are you?”

  “I'm not a chicken,” I tell her, “I just... I'm kind of tired and -”