Dissonance - Book One

twenty-eight

Kelly pushes me in a wheelchair out of the room and through a long hallway, ignoring my endless stream of questions concerning the news he's just laid upon me.

"Look," he finally says, stopping the wheelchair and swinging it around so that we're face-to-face. "I shouldn't have said anything yet, but you'll have the answers to all your questions soon enough. I'm taking you to see someone who will tell you everything you need to know, or at least, everything we know so far."

His answer placates me, at least for now.

"What? No smartass remark?" he teases.

He sees me staring at the stingy strands of hair that have fallen in front of his eyes. He blows a puff of air out of his mouth shooting the strands up and temporarily out of his way until they float back down in front of his face. I try to suppress a smile, but a giggle escapes me.

"She laughs," he says. "I didn't know you were capable of that."

"You don't know what I'm capable of. You don't know me at all, although I'm starting to realize that I don't really know me either, so why don't you stop jabbering and get me to this mysterious man who can explain who I am and what I'm doing here."

"Right away, Miss Attwood."

"Stop calling me that."

He throws his hands up in surrender. The use of that name ends our little flirtation or whatever it is we're doing, and it immediately brings me back to reality. Kelly pushes me through a maze of hallways as I try to ignore the stares from the people we pass. They're pointing and whispering like I'm some sort of freakshow. But maybe I am, a freak that is. What did he call me: a Mod? Is that what I am? And what does that entail exactly?

Kelly spins me around, pulling the wheelchair backwards into a glass elevator. As we rise, I'm able to gain perspective on the building in which I'm being housed. It opens up completely to the outside world, but not in a modern-type-of-architecture sort of way, more in a run-down-building-with-missing-walls sort of way. This place looks like it was abandoned, but not because of recent events. The damage done to this building would have taken years and the community which lives within it, appears, established. Every inch is filled with squatters and their makeshift homes. There are tents, old blankets hung over wires to create privacy from one another, and large trash cans for fires. I should be the one giving these people judgmental stares, but instead, all eyes are on me, as the elevator makes its ascent.

"Are they homeless?" I inquire.

"No, this is their home."

"Doesn't seem like much of a home," I say watching a dirty girl about my age, washing her clothes in a bucket.

"We keep it this way on purpose. People think it's just a bunch of squatters living here. It keeps eyes off of us, plus it definitely beats where we used to live."

Eyes off of them. It's an odd statement, but then I remember that he said he's a part of a government group that went rogue, which means there could be someone looking for them, just like me. I add this information to the growing list of questions running through my head.

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors open to reveal a concrete room. A wall of screens is being monitored by a rag-tag looking group of people. As we enter, their eyes never leave the screens, which show security images from just about every angle of the property. Seems like an odd thing to be so closely monitoring such a decrepit building. It's becoming clearer that this place is more than what it seems.

Kelly makes a right and wheels me into a small room with nothing more than a large table, with several people gathered around, speaking intensely. When their eyes rise to meet mine, all conversation halts and a man in the back waves for everyone to leave. The group shuffles out quickly and quietly, eyeing me as they exit the room.

"Thank you, Kelly. I'll take it from here," the man says in a thick Eastern European accent. He steps out from the shadows and makes his way towards me.

"Yes sir," Kelly replies. He promptly turns on his heels and walks out, closing the door behind him. I'm immediately curious as to who the man is that can make Kelly immediately take orders.

"Hello Ever," the man says as he approaches. He bends down to shake my hand. "It's nice to finally meet you."

I have to blink several times to make sure that what I'm seeing is correct and he chuckles, understanding my confusion. I wonder for a minute if hallucinations are a residual effect of the anesthesia, but I know better, which is why I know the answer to the question that leaves my lips, but I ask it anyway.

"Dr. Ivanov?"