If you missed Part I, start with that here. You can find Part II here.
Part III: The Cellar
As Charlie turned, his eyes were drawn to a single billboard on the wall in the corner opposite him. It was the only object in the entire room, save for a naked incandescent light bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling. The lone window in the room appeared to be painted black, and was fully opaque.
As he walked cautiously to the billboard across the room, the floorboards creaked slightly under his weight. This farmhouse was indeed old. After a short ten paces, he had reached the other corner of the room. He peered at the papers tacked onto the billboard. They were news articles from a wide range of years; the oldest one he found was 1964, and the most recent was from only last year. Each of the articles had a similar theme: a disappearance without a trace. People from all different ages had disappeared with no explanation. Most notable, as Charlie read through the articles, was that every disappearance represented on the billboard took place no further than 300 miles from his home.
Is this what they are protecting me from?
Charlie looked for hints as to what these stories had to do with him, but there was nothing. No highlights, or notes, or hidden codes that he could find. Confused, he turned and went back to the door to the hallway. He knocked sharply on the door three times, then stepped back and waited. After a moment, he heard a click and saw the doorknob turn. The Stranger appeared in the door frame, walked into the room, and closed the door behind him.
"So, what do you think?" he asked, passing by Charlie and walking over to the board.
"I think all of these disappearances have something to do with me. Who made them all disappear?"
The Stranger thought a moment, considering the items on the billboard.
"We did."
Charlie took a step back. "You did... what, to protect them?"
"No, Charlie. To use them."
"Use them... for what?"
"Have you ever tried to get permission from the feds for a human trial, Charlie? It's hard. Really, really hard. Most requests get denied. And it's a shame, because so many life-saving drugs and procedures could be developed more quickly if we just took the lid off of these incessant barriers."
The Stranger's hands clenched into fists as he stared hard at the wall, before turning around to face Charlie. "We are doing critical work to expedite the advancement of medicine. Some die, but for each life lost we gain so much knowledge, Charlie. We have taken the medical field onto our shoulders, and carried them decades further than otherwise possible."
Charlie was now frozen against the door. All this time, it was a trap.
"You brought me here... convinced me you were protecting me. It was all LIES!" Charlie shouted, now trembling.
"We had to, Charlie. Our HIV drug has reached a critical stage of research. We needed someone who could test our latest vaccine."
Charlie squinted, confused. "But I don't have HIV. I was just tested last year."
"I know. We will inject you with the virus first, wait a couple of weeks for it to take hold, and then we'll try the vaccine."
"Um... no you won't. You're not doing anything to me." Charlie turned to the door, opened it, and walked into the hallway. As he turned to the right to head toward the front door, he saw that his path was blocked by three of the men from the living room.
The Stranger spoke from the bedroom. "You can't escape, Charlie. They all try, but none have succeeded. Please don't struggle. It only makes it harder on yourself if we have to restrain you."
There was no way out. Hopelessness flooded Charlie's head, and seemed to flow through his body like a wave. He fell to his knees, staring blankly at the floor as the men approached him.
Charlie sat in a wooden chair in the dining room of the old farmhouse, as a needle was removed from his arm. In a matter of hours, he had gone from carelessly playing video games to playing the role of a lab rat.
"There, all done. See, that wasn't bad."
A single tear fell from Charlie's eye. He continued to stare straight ahead as he asked, "What happens now?"
"Well, there is a bedroom down that hallway you were in that you can use. You'll be waiting a while, since we want to make sure the virus has taken hold before proceeding."
"After the vaccine either works or... doesn't... what then?"
The Stranger did not immediately answer, and Charlie started to realize why. When he spoke, it was labored and somber. "Have you noticed any of our other patients walking around here?"
"...How did they die?"
"It depends on the situation. If the drug being tested fails, and the condition is lethal, they die that way. If they survive, regardless of success or failure of the trial, we give them a choice from a few different options."
Charlie smirked. "Well, at least there's that."
"I owe you some answers, though you have probably figured out most of it by now. Or, no longer care. I don't actually read minds. The incident you described to me earlier was simply a coincidence I took advantage of to keep you compliant. And, of course, we weren't protecting you from anyone."
"I figured as much. But, why me? You could choose anyone."
"We choose our subjects randomly, in order to avoid suspicion. You were not chosen for a specific reason besides being in the age group we wanted to test."
"So, I'm not even special in how I was chosen for this ridiculousness. Awesome."
The Stranger looked back at Charlie as he was putting his equipment away. "No, you're wrong, Charlie. You are very special. You could be the person who contributes to curing HIV. That means something. Try to remember that. If our vaccine works, and I like to think it stands a very good chance at this point, your name will live on for centuries."
"How? You wouldn't dare tell the world you are kidnapping people for science experiments, would you?"
"Actually," the Stranger replied as he sat back at the table next to Charlie, "in this case we would. We have helped solve many medical problems in the world, Charlie. If we find a cure for HIV, we have decided that we need to go public. We will likely go to prison, many of us eventually executed. But the world has to know what is possible when we expand our horizons for research. We could be the harbingers of a medical renaissance!"
Charlie rolled his eyes as he mumbled, "Hooray." As he did so, they both noticed a commotion coming from outside the front of the farmhouse. The Stranger gave a quick glance at a man standing near him, who immediately went to the front door to check on the situation. Ten seconds later, he returned.
"Sir, we have a problem."
He motioned for the Stranger to follow him outside. Before moving out of sight, the Stranger turned back to Charlie. "Stay inside this house, no matter what. If you try to escape, your next few weeks will be much less pleasant. Don't spoil the goodwill I am affording you."
"Where am I going to go? I have no idea where I even am." Satisfied, the Stranger went outside.
Charlie was alone in the house. He pushed back his chair, and rose from the table. He wanted to see what was going on outside, but the kitchen was around the corner from any of the front windows. As he moved within view, he noticed many men running around near the front of the building. He could only see a few yards away, since there were absolutely no lights on outside save for those in the house.
Or was there?
Charlie reached a front window that looked out over the porch. He cupped his hands around his eyes and placed his forehead on the window, following the looks of some of the other men. They were looking far away, into the darkness. At first, he saw nothing. Then, a point of light. Or rather, a pair of lights.
A car! Here, in the middle of nowhere!
It must have been two in the morning, and Charlie had not noticed any traffic on the road outside all evening. Judging from the reaction of his kidnappers, they seemed to be surprised to see any other signs of civilization, too. As Charlie kept watching the car approach, it turned to follow a bend in the road. As it did so, he noticed another car behind it! And another!
Charlie wished he had a flare gun that he could point out the door and shoot, to get someone to notice the farmhouse. But as the three cars approached the point in the road where they would pass the driveway to the house, Charlie's heart skipped a beat. They were slowing down! The commotion outside reached a fever pitch as the men tried to decide what to do. There was loud shouting, followed by the voice of the Stranger barking orders. "Get inside and hide! Put Charlie in the cellar and gag him to keep him quiet! John, change into your farmer outfit and act like you own the place. Everybody, we've practiced for this!"
The men came storming inside, grabbing Charlie as they moved deeper into the house. Before leaving view of the window, Charlie took one more look at the cars as they turned off of the road to approach the farmhouse, and he saw the most beautiful thing he had seen in years: flashing red and blue lights.
Charlie was quickly moved into a small basement beneath the house, and was told to lay flat on the floor behind some boxes. One of the men stuffed a rag into his mouth, and tied a small towel around his head to keep it in place. His mouth was immobile, and he had to breathe through his nose. Another man bound his wrists behind his back. As he laid on the floor, he tried to steady his breathing so he could hear what was happening upstairs. He heard the front door open, followed by several pairs of footsteps and light conversation. All of the men in the basement with him fell silent. Charlie strained to hear some of the words, but the floor muffled too much and the voices were too quiet.
If only he could make a noise, and alert the police to his presence. Or to any presence. He needed to do something to get them downstairs, and reveal the ten or so men who hid along with Charlie. And then, he saw it: a can of spray paint, laying on the floor two feet above his head. He looked carefully at the men around him to see if anyone was watching him. All eyes were focused on the door to the main floor, as they too tried to hear what was happening.
Charlie slid an inch closer to the can, then looked around him again. No one had noticed. Another inch. Then two more, then three more, then four more. He paused as the talking upstairs grew louder. They were getting close to the basement door! Charlie glanced over at the can, now just over a foot away. He lunged for the can, and as he did one of the men noticed what he was doing and jumped toward him, whispering, "No!" But it was too late, and Charlie had landed on the can. As he did so, it squeezed out from under him, rolling forward quickly until it landed on a metal drainage grate. As it slid across the grate, metal on metal, it slowed to a stop.
The rolling had been loud. Charlie and the men listened. All talk upstairs had stopped. Then, a muffled voice, urgent. Suddenly a hand grabbed the handle to the basement door, and the door flung open. A state trooper appeared in the light of the doorway, gun drawn and flashlight out. His partner flanked him, and as they both noticed the large hidden assembly they shouted, "Everyone down, face down, on the floor!"
Crack!
The gunshot was loud in the basement, and Charlie tried to cover his ears with his shoulders to no avail. As he looked for the source of the gunfire, he saw a lone pistol in the shadows. The wielder stepped forward. It was the Stranger.
Crack!
He fired another round, this time aiming at the second officer on the stairs. Both shots hit their targets square in the head, and both men collapsed down the stairs. There was a commotion upstairs, then from a difference source: Crack! Crack! Crack!
The remainder of the police presence had been killed by the man they called John. Charlie took a deep breath, turning to lay on his back as he exhaled. As he did so, tears streamed down his face.
I killed them.
The Stranger walked carefully over to Charlie, as the men grabbed the officers on the stairs to start to clean up. He kneeled down next to Charlie, put the gun back under his belt, and spoke softly.
"We have to finish this test. The world is depending on us! Sacrifices can and must be made." The Stranger seemed to be trying to convince himself of this as tears welled up in his eyes.
"Now get up. We have to move."
Part III: The Cellar
As Charlie turned, his eyes were drawn to a single billboard on the wall in the corner opposite him. It was the only object in the entire room, save for a naked incandescent light bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling. The lone window in the room appeared to be painted black, and was fully opaque.
As he walked cautiously to the billboard across the room, the floorboards creaked slightly under his weight. This farmhouse was indeed old. After a short ten paces, he had reached the other corner of the room. He peered at the papers tacked onto the billboard. They were news articles from a wide range of years; the oldest one he found was 1964, and the most recent was from only last year. Each of the articles had a similar theme: a disappearance without a trace. People from all different ages had disappeared with no explanation. Most notable, as Charlie read through the articles, was that every disappearance represented on the billboard took place no further than 300 miles from his home.
Is this what they are protecting me from?
Charlie looked for hints as to what these stories had to do with him, but there was nothing. No highlights, or notes, or hidden codes that he could find. Confused, he turned and went back to the door to the hallway. He knocked sharply on the door three times, then stepped back and waited. After a moment, he heard a click and saw the doorknob turn. The Stranger appeared in the door frame, walked into the room, and closed the door behind him.
"So, what do you think?" he asked, passing by Charlie and walking over to the board.
"I think all of these disappearances have something to do with me. Who made them all disappear?"
The Stranger thought a moment, considering the items on the billboard.
"We did."
Charlie took a step back. "You did... what, to protect them?"
"No, Charlie. To use them."
"Use them... for what?"
"Have you ever tried to get permission from the feds for a human trial, Charlie? It's hard. Really, really hard. Most requests get denied. And it's a shame, because so many life-saving drugs and procedures could be developed more quickly if we just took the lid off of these incessant barriers."
The Stranger's hands clenched into fists as he stared hard at the wall, before turning around to face Charlie. "We are doing critical work to expedite the advancement of medicine. Some die, but for each life lost we gain so much knowledge, Charlie. We have taken the medical field onto our shoulders, and carried them decades further than otherwise possible."
Charlie was now frozen against the door. All this time, it was a trap.
"You brought me here... convinced me you were protecting me. It was all LIES!" Charlie shouted, now trembling.
"We had to, Charlie. Our HIV drug has reached a critical stage of research. We needed someone who could test our latest vaccine."
Charlie squinted, confused. "But I don't have HIV. I was just tested last year."
"I know. We will inject you with the virus first, wait a couple of weeks for it to take hold, and then we'll try the vaccine."
"Um... no you won't. You're not doing anything to me." Charlie turned to the door, opened it, and walked into the hallway. As he turned to the right to head toward the front door, he saw that his path was blocked by three of the men from the living room.
The Stranger spoke from the bedroom. "You can't escape, Charlie. They all try, but none have succeeded. Please don't struggle. It only makes it harder on yourself if we have to restrain you."
There was no way out. Hopelessness flooded Charlie's head, and seemed to flow through his body like a wave. He fell to his knees, staring blankly at the floor as the men approached him.
*****
Charlie sat in a wooden chair in the dining room of the old farmhouse, as a needle was removed from his arm. In a matter of hours, he had gone from carelessly playing video games to playing the role of a lab rat.
"There, all done. See, that wasn't bad."
A single tear fell from Charlie's eye. He continued to stare straight ahead as he asked, "What happens now?"
"Well, there is a bedroom down that hallway you were in that you can use. You'll be waiting a while, since we want to make sure the virus has taken hold before proceeding."
"After the vaccine either works or... doesn't... what then?"
The Stranger did not immediately answer, and Charlie started to realize why. When he spoke, it was labored and somber. "Have you noticed any of our other patients walking around here?"
"...How did they die?"
"It depends on the situation. If the drug being tested fails, and the condition is lethal, they die that way. If they survive, regardless of success or failure of the trial, we give them a choice from a few different options."
Charlie smirked. "Well, at least there's that."
"I owe you some answers, though you have probably figured out most of it by now. Or, no longer care. I don't actually read minds. The incident you described to me earlier was simply a coincidence I took advantage of to keep you compliant. And, of course, we weren't protecting you from anyone."
"I figured as much. But, why me? You could choose anyone."
"We choose our subjects randomly, in order to avoid suspicion. You were not chosen for a specific reason besides being in the age group we wanted to test."
"So, I'm not even special in how I was chosen for this ridiculousness. Awesome."
The Stranger looked back at Charlie as he was putting his equipment away. "No, you're wrong, Charlie. You are very special. You could be the person who contributes to curing HIV. That means something. Try to remember that. If our vaccine works, and I like to think it stands a very good chance at this point, your name will live on for centuries."
"How? You wouldn't dare tell the world you are kidnapping people for science experiments, would you?"
"Actually," the Stranger replied as he sat back at the table next to Charlie, "in this case we would. We have helped solve many medical problems in the world, Charlie. If we find a cure for HIV, we have decided that we need to go public. We will likely go to prison, many of us eventually executed. But the world has to know what is possible when we expand our horizons for research. We could be the harbingers of a medical renaissance!"
Charlie rolled his eyes as he mumbled, "Hooray." As he did so, they both noticed a commotion coming from outside the front of the farmhouse. The Stranger gave a quick glance at a man standing near him, who immediately went to the front door to check on the situation. Ten seconds later, he returned.
"Sir, we have a problem."
He motioned for the Stranger to follow him outside. Before moving out of sight, the Stranger turned back to Charlie. "Stay inside this house, no matter what. If you try to escape, your next few weeks will be much less pleasant. Don't spoil the goodwill I am affording you."
"Where am I going to go? I have no idea where I even am." Satisfied, the Stranger went outside.
Charlie was alone in the house. He pushed back his chair, and rose from the table. He wanted to see what was going on outside, but the kitchen was around the corner from any of the front windows. As he moved within view, he noticed many men running around near the front of the building. He could only see a few yards away, since there were absolutely no lights on outside save for those in the house.
Or was there?
Charlie reached a front window that looked out over the porch. He cupped his hands around his eyes and placed his forehead on the window, following the looks of some of the other men. They were looking far away, into the darkness. At first, he saw nothing. Then, a point of light. Or rather, a pair of lights.
A car! Here, in the middle of nowhere!
It must have been two in the morning, and Charlie had not noticed any traffic on the road outside all evening. Judging from the reaction of his kidnappers, they seemed to be surprised to see any other signs of civilization, too. As Charlie kept watching the car approach, it turned to follow a bend in the road. As it did so, he noticed another car behind it! And another!
Charlie wished he had a flare gun that he could point out the door and shoot, to get someone to notice the farmhouse. But as the three cars approached the point in the road where they would pass the driveway to the house, Charlie's heart skipped a beat. They were slowing down! The commotion outside reached a fever pitch as the men tried to decide what to do. There was loud shouting, followed by the voice of the Stranger barking orders. "Get inside and hide! Put Charlie in the cellar and gag him to keep him quiet! John, change into your farmer outfit and act like you own the place. Everybody, we've practiced for this!"
The men came storming inside, grabbing Charlie as they moved deeper into the house. Before leaving view of the window, Charlie took one more look at the cars as they turned off of the road to approach the farmhouse, and he saw the most beautiful thing he had seen in years: flashing red and blue lights.
Charlie was quickly moved into a small basement beneath the house, and was told to lay flat on the floor behind some boxes. One of the men stuffed a rag into his mouth, and tied a small towel around his head to keep it in place. His mouth was immobile, and he had to breathe through his nose. Another man bound his wrists behind his back. As he laid on the floor, he tried to steady his breathing so he could hear what was happening upstairs. He heard the front door open, followed by several pairs of footsteps and light conversation. All of the men in the basement with him fell silent. Charlie strained to hear some of the words, but the floor muffled too much and the voices were too quiet.
If only he could make a noise, and alert the police to his presence. Or to any presence. He needed to do something to get them downstairs, and reveal the ten or so men who hid along with Charlie. And then, he saw it: a can of spray paint, laying on the floor two feet above his head. He looked carefully at the men around him to see if anyone was watching him. All eyes were focused on the door to the main floor, as they too tried to hear what was happening.
Charlie slid an inch closer to the can, then looked around him again. No one had noticed. Another inch. Then two more, then three more, then four more. He paused as the talking upstairs grew louder. They were getting close to the basement door! Charlie glanced over at the can, now just over a foot away. He lunged for the can, and as he did one of the men noticed what he was doing and jumped toward him, whispering, "No!" But it was too late, and Charlie had landed on the can. As he did so, it squeezed out from under him, rolling forward quickly until it landed on a metal drainage grate. As it slid across the grate, metal on metal, it slowed to a stop.
The rolling had been loud. Charlie and the men listened. All talk upstairs had stopped. Then, a muffled voice, urgent. Suddenly a hand grabbed the handle to the basement door, and the door flung open. A state trooper appeared in the light of the doorway, gun drawn and flashlight out. His partner flanked him, and as they both noticed the large hidden assembly they shouted, "Everyone down, face down, on the floor!"
Crack!
The gunshot was loud in the basement, and Charlie tried to cover his ears with his shoulders to no avail. As he looked for the source of the gunfire, he saw a lone pistol in the shadows. The wielder stepped forward. It was the Stranger.
Crack!
He fired another round, this time aiming at the second officer on the stairs. Both shots hit their targets square in the head, and both men collapsed down the stairs. There was a commotion upstairs, then from a difference source: Crack! Crack! Crack!
The remainder of the police presence had been killed by the man they called John. Charlie took a deep breath, turning to lay on his back as he exhaled. As he did so, tears streamed down his face.
I killed them.
The Stranger walked carefully over to Charlie, as the men grabbed the officers on the stairs to start to clean up. He kneeled down next to Charlie, put the gun back under his belt, and spoke softly.
"We have to finish this test. The world is depending on us! Sacrifices can and must be made." The Stranger seemed to be trying to convince himself of this as tears welled up in his eyes.
"Now get up. We have to move."