tagNovels and NovellasThe Dept. of Positive Eugenics 03

The Dept. of Positive Eugenics 03


Author's note: Reminder that this is a work of fiction, so please do not mind something if it does not seem scientifically accurate and/or plausible; all characters are 18 years old or older; any likenesses in name or description to anyone in real life are purely coincidental, etc., etc., etc., you know the drill. Enjoy reading!


Date: Unknown

Time: Unknown

Location: Unknown

Jason felt himself floating subconsciously. For how long, he wasn't particularly sure, though it felt like eons had passed as he slowly came to.

What the hell happened again, exactly?

He remained completely still where he was . . . wherever "here" happened to be, afraid for some reason that he was not alone. But how did he get . . . here?

He racked his brains, then the memories came flooding back:

A tire had busted on his car, and when Jason had pulled over to replace it, a guy who seemed to him like some sort of cop had pulled over, wanting to "help." That "help" had really been a distraction to allow a buddy of the "cop" to come up and jack Jason up in the neck with a syringe full of knock-out meds. Jason caught on, a fight ensued, in which another man had shown up to help the other two attackers, at last helping the second guy to make Jason go to sleep.

As soon as Jason remembered the fight, a dull pain in the small of his back, as well as the back of his leg, right at the knee, seemed to reawaken- he'd been struck with a baton to each spot. Jason groaned, involuntarily rolling onto his side as he reached to paw at his back. His whole body ached in protest, telling him he'd been out cold and lying still for at least a couple of days.

Remembering his fear of nearby danger, Jason froze, listening.

Nothing, but for a slight humming sound above him.

Content that he was by himself, Jason placed a hand on the surface he was laying on. It was soft, and reminded him of the kind of cushion that is typically found on the bed in a school nurse's office or at the hospital.

Encouraged by the fact that he had made a noise and two different motions without being attacked, Jason opened his eyes.

A blank, white wall stared back at him. Underneath him, the cushion was a light pink color, exactly like the ones he'd seen in the nurse's office the day before graduation day, as well as the last time he'd been to the hospital for vaccines, right before senior year began.

He especially remembered those two. Painful reactions to new meds and filling out awkward questionnaires regarding his sex life (which had nothing to do with the vaccines he was receiving at the time, strangely) tend to stick out in the mind.

He sat upright on the bed, grunting as his body protested against moving again. He looked around, noticing the bed he was on was unusually large- almost like it was made for two people to be on- then taking in the rest of his surroundings.

He was in a room, one that seemed to continue the medical theme; the buzzing sound was from the lights in the ceiling above. To his left, and in front of him, were two blank white walls. On his right, were a series of cabinets positioned both above and below a counter, a sink located in the center. To the right of the counter was a beige colored door: the sign on it told him it was a bathroom.

Good. He needed one now.

Jason got up, standing on the white tiled floor, and began walking over to the bathroom door, glancing at the wall that was behind him as he went.

Like the first two walls, it was blank white, but it had another beige door, one he knew led out of here.

He went into the bathroom and took a leak and number two'ed, now groaning in relief as he went. Apparently he'd been holding all that in for some time as well.

At least he hadn't pissed himself while out cold. Or worse.

He washed his hands and dried them on the waiting towel, noticing just now thanks to the mirror that there was a shower tub around the corner behind him, complete with curtain.

After drying his hands, Jason placed his hands on the counter, and leaned forward, bracing himself against the cold surface. He let out a long breath, hung his head, and looked down in the sink. He'd been unconscious for only goodness knows how long, and yet he felt exhausted.

And worse, he'd been kidnapped on the side of an empty road by unknown assailants, just a mile or so away from his home. It was like some scene out of that garbage "Taken 5" movie he'd wasted money on back in April.

Top it all off, he had no clue if he'd ever see family or friends again.

Or Candice.

Jason looked back up at his reflection, a hollow feeling manifesting in his chest, and shook his head. He'd just had his first date with her, too.

Jason pushed off the counter with another grunt. 'Oh well,' he thought. 'She'll be sick with worry like everyone else, but she'll move on somewhere down the road. At least she's safe at home.' After patting his pockets and finding his phone, wallet, and car keys were all missing, and a brief check on his hair and clothes- ugh, really oily and wrinkled up, respectively- he opened the bathroom door and walked back out. He froze about one step out.

Someone had been in here while he'd been on the toilet. There, on the bed, perfectly folded, were the exact same kind of clothes he was wearing right now: a red collared shirt and khaki shorts, laid side by side along with a fresh pair of boxers and socks. Resting on top of the shirt was a flash card.

For a while, Jason could only stare at the clothes, nonplussed. Someone was monitoring him. How could anyone have walked in and out of here while he'd been in the bathroom without him noticing? Surely he'd have heard them.

And what do they want with him, anyway? He didn't get it.

He walked over to the door leading out of the room he was trapped in and tried to turn the knob. As expected, it was locked.

"Figures," he muttered, turning back to the bed and walking to it. Noticing writing on the flash card, he picked it up and read the neat, slightly curly hand writing on it.

*Here are a fresh change of clothes for you. Take a shower and put them on. A prepared meal will be delivered to your room while you wash. After eating, wait.*

Jason's stomach growled as he read about the promised meal. How long had it been since he'd last eaten exactly?

And wait for what after eating?

His stomach growled again.

That made the decision for him. Tossing the card to the side, Jason then picked up all the fresh clothing and returned to the bathroom. He noticed, bemused, that some sort of designation had been adhered, right above the heart, to the new shirt: "Subject GA-03."

He placed his new set on the toilet cover, found a bottle of body wash, a towel, comb, and rag in the cabinet under the sink, then went to the heads and took a hot shower. After washing up, he got out, dried off, and dressed up, combed his hair, then stepped back out of the bathroom.

True to the card, a large plastic plate was now sitting on the counter in the main room, loaded with a fat apple, generous servings of yellow rice and green beans, a large piece of boneless chicken, two milk cartons, and a fork.

Jason picked up the plate and carefully carried it over to the bed, sat it down next to him, and grabbed the fork. He pulled up short as he was about to scoop up some rice.

He'd just noticed: everything on his plate was his personal favorites from each of the different food groups.

THAT creeped him out. A coincidence? Or, had these people- whoever they were- been watching him? If so, for how long?

"Ugh," Jason growled in frustration. So many questions, and no way to answer any of them.

But he was hungry, and the captors had provided him with food. At least he was able to tackle one issue properly thanks to that generosity. He scooped up some rice with the fork and ate it, noting how warm it was.

He gave an appreciative grunt; they'd done a good job on cooking his food. He gobbled down the rest of his meal and milk, patting his full belly once done. With his hunger issue taken care of, Jason felt at ease, if only for a few moments.

That feeling faded over the course of the next quarter hour or so. Jason, mindful of the card's instructions, went back and forth between pacing around the room and sitting on the unusually wide bed, waiting impatiently for whatever was supposed to come next. It certainly took its time in getting here.

It could have been three hours, or it could have been just half an hour, but however long it was, eventually Jason heard the door open, and jumped. There had not been the tell-tale sounds of someone approaching the door for him to hear.

Standing in the door was a man in a black suit and matching tie, with hair cut military short, his eyes obscured by dark sunglasses. Jason was reminded vividly of the Agent Smith character from the original "Matrix" movies.

"Just so we have an understanding, Mr. Whitemore," the man said in a silky, slow, dangerous sounding voice as he pulled out a Taser, "there will be no funny business coming from you. Is that clear?"

Jason stood there a moment, thinking it through. The stun gun this guy was holding could be used at a distance, unlike the baton his colleague apparent had used, and would be much harder to dodge the closer he was to the man if he did try something. Seeing no way to win, Jason nodded.

"Yeah," he said in spiteful voice. He could feel anger simmering under the surface, but knew that even the slightest hint of aggression would net him a shocking reprisal.

"Good," the man replied, taking a couple of steps back. He beckoned to his left, Jason's right, down what was clearly a hallway. "This way. Now."

Jason hesitated for a moment, then slowly walked across the room and out the door. He looked around as he stepped out.

He'd been right in thinking this was a hallway. As with the room he'd been in, the corridor exuded a cold, somewhat hospital-like motif, with white tiled floors, and plain white walls and ceiling. Situated every few yards apart from each other on the walls, were more beige doors, like the one to the room he'd just exited. Each door had a sign above it, with what had to be the abbreviations of the different states, then a number. Jason looked up above the door he'd just walked through, all in bright red. Sure enough, the designation "GA-03" was there.

Jason realized he was not been the only person in deep shit, like him.

He looked to his left, and saw a dead end about half a football field's distance away, then to the right. About the same distance away from him, Jason saw the hall ended in what seemed to be some sort of reception room. A woman in a white doctor's uniform sat at the counter, attending to her computer. It didn't seem like there were any windows around, so Jason wouldn't be able to look outside and maybe see if he could figure out his rough location.

The man with the stun gun cleared his throat. Jason turned back to him as he pointed in the direction of the woman.

"Head on down, Mr. Whitemore. The doctor will tell you where to go next," he said.

Jason stayed put. "What the hell is all this about?" he demanded of the man.

"You will be briefed momentarily. Now. Go. Down. That. Way," the man answered, a snap of impatience cutting into his tone.

The two of them glared at each other for a few seconds, before Jason finally relented and began walking towards the reception counter.

As he grew close, Jason noticed the woman was beautiful, the quintessential California girl, with sparkly blue eyes and chest length blonde hair, at the moment pulled up in a ponytail.

She looked up at him, gave a small, welcoming smile. "Ah, yes, Mr. Whitemore," she said, and pointed to the wall opposite from the desk: Jason looked and saw another suited man standing next to a set of elevator doors. "If you would, please do take an elevator over there up to the twenty-second floor. A guard will greet you as you get out and escort you to your destination."

"Will I finally be told as to why the fuck I'm here?" Jason asked, exasperated.

The woman's smile faded, replaced by a slight scowl. "Yes, you will, if you just get going," she snapped.

"Right," Jason retorted, walking to the elevator, noticing a sign above the door stating that this was floor B3F.

The suited man standing next to the doors pressed the "up" button to call a lift, before accepting Jason's unspoken challenge to a glaring contest until the door opened.

Jason stepped in and turned back around to face the woman, hitting the button marked "twenty-two" as he did. As the doors closed, he saw the woman look to her left, back down towards the rooms, and nod, presumably to the man down that way.

'Next door opens, I bet,' Jason mused while the elevator began rising, then started a few seconds later as light flooded the lift from behind him. He turned around.

"Woah," he breathed.

The back wall was actually a big window. Outside, Jason saw out onto the plain white roof of the lower section of the building he was rising up from. The building seemed to stretch both ways out of view, and in front of it was a wide, curving strip of beach, the sand painfully bright to look at in the high noon sun's light, as was the clear blue, wave-encrusted water of the adjoined inlet. On each side of the inlet, the land quickly soared upwards immediately past the beach sands, instantly morphing into dense plant life residing on the steep slopes of tall mountains, the greenery on the one to the right broken only by a beautiful waterfall cascading down to the water below. Beyond the inlet was the wide expanse of endless ocean water.

"So I'm somewhere in the Pacific. Probably Hawai'i," Jason said to himself. The Pacific was the closest he could pinpoint his location, anyways. For all he knew, he could be somewhere like the Philippines. He wasn't sure; he didn't even know how mountainous that country's islands were.

The elevator slowed and came to a stop. Jason tore his gaze away from the amazing sight outside and turned back to face the door.

As the door opened, the first thing Jason saw was yet another man in a suit, but did a double take when he saw his face.

It was the guy who'd used a baton against him that night.

Anger welled up from the depths within him.

"You!" Jason exclaimed loudly.

Agent Keyes grinned mockingly. "Me," he said.

Jason took a couple steps forward, coming out of the elevator, balling his hands into fist, ready to fight.

The Agent merely took a step back as he drew out a Taser at lightning speed. Jason froze.

The grin returned to Keyes' face. "You may've been able to duke it out for a while when the best weapon we had was my baton, but you don't stand a chance now."

Thoroughly pissed, but once again unable to think of a good way around the stun gun he faced, Jason gave a huff of annoyance, unfurled his fists, and shrugged. That didn't stop the blood from thundering through his veins.

"So are any of y'all gonna tell me why I'm here?" he challenged the man verbally. He looked around as he spoke, noticing just now another suited man to each side, both wielding stunners as well.

Agent Keyes slowly put away his weapon along with his companions before answering coldly. "That's not MY job to do, boy. I'm just to lead you to your destination, where they will do the talking- you will NOT. Now, come, we're a tad short on time before I have to be right here again." He turned to walk down the hallway, waving a hand to indicate that Jason walk that way first.

Shrugging again, Jason went on, his assailant following along a few steps behind. Jason noticed the hall had the same aesthetic as the one downstairs: white all around. At least this one had windows in the walls.

"It'll be just around that corner up ahead, first door on the left," the agent stated. Taking the directions in stride, Jason turned at the corner, taking a quick look over his shoulder back towards the elevators.

Before the wall obstructed his view, Jason saw one of the elevator doors opening, and one of the two sentries walking up to greet whoever the passenger was.

Jason turned back around to look down the corridor he was traversing now. Empty and completely unadorned, but for two sets of mahogany double doors, the closest just a few yards ahead of him, the other about forty yards past that. Two suited guards stood watch, each stationed just opposite from the doors.

Jason thought he saw movement at the other end of the hall, which terminated at a three way intersection. Just a quick flash of a person's leg- female, judging by the lack of leg hair and the pink short shorts- before they stepped out of view, but it confirmed to him all the more that there definitely had to be others here, taken like he was.

He stopped in front of the doors, and looked back at his escort. The man merely nodded and said, "Go on." Jason grasped the handle and opened the door.

He found himself stepping into an auditorium, big enough to seat probably four hundred or so people, with three columns- one on his left, the other two on his right- of seats stretching forward, sloping down towards the stage, which had a projector's screen hanging down over it from the ceiling, and a podium to the right side. On each side wall, were large paintings of double helixes: DNA. Jason wondered what that was about.

Several dozen other people were there in the auditorium, most of them sitting in the middle rows of the left side column, and they all seemed to be tentatively engrossed in the early stages of a group discussion. While walking towards them, the murmuring stopped as they all turned to look at Jason. He noticed that they were all guys, but didn't recognize anyone.

Conflicting emotions manifested in Jason's gut; he was relieved to see that none of his friends were here (so far, at least), having to go through this madness as well, but them not being here in the same predicament as him also made Jason feel a little lonely and exposed.

With Tyrone, Brian, and the twins, Jason would've been able to easily face whatever was coming at him without fear. Without them, his confidence would only last as long as his physical strength in the face of adversity. And he was already outmatched.

One of the seated guys, a tall, lanky black guy with shoulder length dreads and matching blue shirt and jeans, stood up and faced Jason.

"'Sup, man. What's your name?" he asked in a Bostonian's accent. The tag on his bright yellow shirt read "Subject MA-02."

"I'm Jason," Jason replied.

"Jatavious. You can call me "Tay" for short," Tay said, and they shook hands.

A few other guys, all of whom looked to be anywhere from eighteen to twenty one years old as with the rest, came up and greeted Jason as well: the Hispanics Juan (TX-05) and Alexis (AR-01), another boy of African heritage called Gerome (IN-03), and a red-headed look-alike of the Weasley twins from the Harry Potter movies by the name of Jacob (TX-02), to name a few. As they spoke, perhaps a couple dozen more guys trickled in and joined them in ones and twos, all sharing the same wary, slightly intimidated look on their faces.

"So," Jason started hesitantly. "Any of you know what's going on?"

"Not a clue, man," Gerome spoke up as the others shook their heads. "All any of us know is that we were all taken by those "Men in Black" lookin'-ass dudes that are standing guard everywhere."

"There seems to be a pattern to all of it, including the kidnappers," Jacob added. "Lemme guess, Jason, they ambushed you at some point in your daily routine when no one else was around, right?"

Jason nodded, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, my tire had just busted while I was close to getting home. The guard who escorted me over here from the elevators drove up, looked like he was by himself, and said he'd help me with the tire- y'know, good ol' Southern hospitality, us rednecks do that kind of thing. Buuuut, he was just trying to distract me from another guy with a syringe. I was about to beat them in a fight, until another dude with a Beretta pistol showed up." He paused for a second, then added, "Something about the shape of the hole in my tire tells me that the guy with the gun managed to pull off quite the snipe shot."

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