Page 20

Chief Styles Sawyer

The tang of sterilized metal and antiseptics preceded his captors, but with this visit, a hint of sweat and musk came with them.

They were nervous.

He could hear in their hushed voices the sound of uncertainty lingering around their clinical mumbo-jumbo.

“We were shockingly relieved by Valor’s response, but who’s to say Zorion will be the same?” The lone female scientist who always held the most compassion sighed as if exhausted. “Phase One needs considerably more time, but predictions of phase two are purely theoretical now.”

“I know,” a man added. “I’ve never tested on a subject to this extent.”

Subject . Sawyer was beginning to despise that classification.

Was he some unhoused man they’d taken off the streets? Did he not have a family looking for him? A spouse? An employer? He’d been in this lab for over a month now. Was he that insignificant?

“I’ve mapped the neural alterations. His cognitive pathways are firmly intact. We just need to guide him through this awakening phase.” Sawyer recognized Dr. Pheung’s accent. “I feel confident if we can establish a connection early on, Zorion may come to trust us. His species is the less dominant one, so we’ll need to help him develop a level of confidence before implementing phase three. He’s going to naturally flee from Valor.”

“It was stupid to join these two animals. Why of all the species in the wild did the director choose—”

“We’ve asked ourselves that question from the beginning, and there’s still no realistic reason,” Dr. Pheung answered. “I can only assume because of these animals’ survival skills.”

“Animal”, what the hell? He couldn’t be hearing this right.

Sawyer loathed the sedation he was kept under. He was always suspended between one part awake and three parts asleep. Therefore, he was never sure if what he was experiencing was real or a dream.

The last dose he’d received—that only felt like minutes ago—had made his eyelids feel like weighted blankets.

Buttons were being pressed and switches flicked as the soft hum of the many machines began to fade until the mechanical beeping was silenced.

With nimble fingers and gentle touches, someone began detaching him from tubes and wires. One by one, the restraints were undone and Sawyer could feel the tension in their hands as they worked, the way their breaths hitched when they pulled the last IV from the bend in his arm.

Silence hung in the room as the rustle of lab coats shifted as if they were giving him space.

His body and mind felt foreign yet familiar.

Sawyer took long, deep breaths, noticing the expansion and compression of his chest, the coiling of raw power and instinct burning beneath his skin. He thought he’d feel more pain or weakness as the sedation wore off, but he felt…as if he were soaring.

Time passed slowly before he had the energy to open his eyes, and to his shock, the world snapped into focus with astonishing clarity.

The beam of light over his head didn’t blind him in the way it had before. Instead, he saw every detail.

His attention shifted at the tiniest flickers of movement. The twitch of Dr. Santana’s temples, the beads of sweat dripping down Dr. O’Reilley’s neck and into her white collar, the dramatic bobbing of Dr. Pheung’s Adam’s apple with each nervous swallow.

After another several minutes, his body began to feel light and freer.

Sawyer rose in one fluid motion like a phoenix from ashes. He rolled his shoulders, flexed his muscles, and cracked his joints until there was no more stiffness.

He didn’t speak, just observed them with an unhampered mind. Studied them as they studied him back.

It was as if they were expecting something from him, speech, a reaction, recognition, he wasn’t sure. But myriad images flashed across his vision, fragments of people and places that perhaps he should know, but they didn’t stick around long enough for him to figure them out.

Who he’d been before this moment was just out of his grasp.

Dr. O’Reilley cleared her throat. “Zorion, can you hear me?”

That name felt wrong. Alien.

She shifted, her hands trembling as she clutched her clipboard. “I know you’re probably feeling a bit disoriented, but I promise we can help you.”

Help me?

“Your body has undergone a sort of transformation. You may feel odd or different, but trust me, we’re here to help.”

Trust you!

Sawyer stayed silent. He heard each distinct heartbeat. Their erratic pulses. But his was as steady as he was focused.

Dr. Pheung took a cautious step forward. “Can you nod or speak if you understand us?”

He could, yes, but he wouldn’t. His instinct was telling him to remain still. To calculate and observe. He remained that way until the silence stretched into discomfort.

Dr. O’Reilley’s eyes began to fill with moisture. “God help us. What have we done?”

Sawyer tipped his head in an odd, curious gesture.

If these mad scientists only knew what they’d created, they’d know he didn’t need divine intervention. He was beyond that now.