Authors: Cynthia Dixon
“I’m flattered that you think so,” James replied, apparently still waiting for her to continue. “You’re not the first person to do so. But on the other hand, you are the most beautiful.”
God, he is so skilled with words.
Jasmine felt herself getting lost in the display that the dark-haired man put before her, wondering what else he was skilled at. Everything about him radiated power: the posture, the facial gestures, the muscles… even the verbosity. It was all spot on. The perfect man sat right next to her, and for some reason was showing interest in her.
Something is wrong here, though.
Her instincts suddenly turned vocal, but she immediately drowned them out.
What’s the worst that can happen?
She argued with her inner voice, intent on not missing the opportunity to better know this fascinating individual. Even if the stranger turned out to be some sort of homicidal maniac, at least that’d be a change from the slow death she had to face while holed up in this place.
Alright, let’s give this a shot,
she concluded, so lost in thought she didn’t even register the serving girl.
“Miss Paulson,” James’ voice pierced through her hazy awareness as well as it did through the racket. “This lovely little barmaid is here to take our orders. Another blackberry schnapps, am I right?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Jasmine replied, snapping back into awareness as the bar employee jotted it down on a piece of paper and retreated back to the counter. “I lost myself a little back there, sorry.”
“And here I thought you got captivated by my presence and couldn’t speak for a while,” James retorted, his grin making light of the ego that bled from that sentence.
Only half-true, actually. The accuracy of your assumptions is slipping, James.
“I was actually wondering about those shades. What’s the deal with them? Those can’t be pleasant at this time of night. Why do you wear them? Also, you didn’t tell me what you were doing here yet. Care to elaborate, James?”
“Of course, Jasmine, it’ll be my pleasure. I am actually doing a study about genetic variability in American small towns. I travel the countryside in my car, talk to people, assess their physical and mental traits and take notes. Then, I proceed to phase two, which is something I can’t disclose.” Slowly, he zipped his lips. “The rest of it is top secret, I’m afraid.”
“What are you studying? On the off chance that it’s inbreeding, we’ve got that in droves out here. Not that it’s
that
difficult to believe.” Jasmine gestured toward her surroundings, her displeasure clearly visible.
“Among other things, yes.” James nodded, amused by the woman’s gesturing. “But it goes beyond that. Beyond any study ever performed on this soil.” For a second, the man’s smile was gone and he appeared gravely serious, as if his job meant the difference between life and death. Then, as quickly as it had disappeared, his mirthful disposition resurfaced again and he changed the subject. “That is not a story fit for this conversation, or this atmosphere, I’m afraid. We might talk about it at some other time, if we stay in touch. Which I hope we will, given how fascinating of a woman you are, Jasmine.”
A man of mystery, I see. This keeps getting better and better.
“As for why I wear these, I must disappoint you. They are merely a personal choice. Don’t they go well with the rest of me?” He widened his grin, and Jasmine couldn’t help but respond in kind.
To say that he is hiding something would be an understatement, but what could it be? He’s obviously not blind. Is he?
“Are you - ?” Jasmine blurted out, just about when the serving girl was back with their drinks.
“Am I what? Attracted to you? Is that not obvious?” James retorted, jumping at the chance to turn the conversation to his advantage. The barmaid, obviously surprised by the attention this man was displaying toward Jasmine, quickly regained control of her expression and placed the orders at their respective places before disappearing without a word.
Yeah, she’s jealous, alright.
“I wanted to ask you if you were blind,” Jasmine commented while observing the serving girl’s mincing steps. “More as a joke than anything else, actually, but she burst that bubble before it even got the chance to inflate properly.”
“She has something against you?”
“Everyone has something against me, Mr. Ackerman. Or have you not noticed?” The female patron was still smiling, but now it was more ironic than sincere. “I’m well into my thirties, still not married, and teach these people’s children the theory of evolution. The only way they’d like me less would be if I dated other women.” Not beating around the bush, Jasmine grabbed her glass, emptying its contents into her mouth before James had a chance to say a word. “Given the alternatives, I might try even that in the near future…” she grumbled, more to herself than toward him. “Just kidding, really, I’m not into that kind of thing. But you are really good at making accurate conclusions, Mr. Ackerman. I really,
really
don’t fit in here. And the locals feel the same.” She chuckled for a bit, again trying to see what was behind those shades before giving up and finishing her speech. “If they could drive me off, I’m sure they would have by now. But no one else is insane enough to come to work in this gutter, so I guess we’re stuck with each other, this town and I.”
“So you do not originate from this place?” James appeared occupied by his thoughts for a second before asking her a similar question. “Your family line, it is not originally from here?”
“Whatever gave you that idea? The proud town of Wayward”—the woman made a mock gesture, as of a royal when talking about his or her roots—“has been the home of my line for generations. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”
“Good to know,” James said, fumbling with something under the table with his right hand. Carefully, and before Jasmine had a chance to point it out, he pulled out a small item from beneath and placed it onto the flat surface between them.
What in the world is this?
The object was smooth and shaped like a slightly flattened egg. Vertical, bent lines appeared throughout its chrome surface, giving the thing a weird symmetry. It didn’t look like anything she’d ever seen.
“That would be one fine-looking cell phone, if only it had some buttons or a screen,” Jasmine commented, driving the dark-haired man to almost break into laughter himself, despite the serious attitude he obviously tried to maintain.
“That is no cell phone, Miss Paulson,” James replied, “but rather the instrument of my trade. You will be given a chance to help me with my work, as I’m sure a woman of your profession would. Am I right?”
So all he ever wanted me for was to be a test subject…
“So let me get this straight, you’ve let this conversation come this far, all as an overture for whatever you’re going to do with this thing?” Jasmine’s lips tightened, her gaze no longer mirthful. “You’re not really interested in me, are you? What you want is only to continue your work? Starting with me, right?”
“I fail to see how one excludes the other,” he retorted, still grinning in his own charming way. The charm, however, now seemed more horrifying than alluring, similar to a cat’s expression before it pounced onto a mouse. “I would like you to be one of my subjects, yes, but that does not mean that I am not romantically interested in you. In fact, the sooner we get this little thing out of the way, the sooner we can—“
Suddenly Jasmine stood up, hints of drunken rage visible in her eyes. Without uttering a word, she grabbed her jacket before turning toward the nearest exit and walking away. When she opened the door the stranger was still in his seat, staring after her with those shade-concealed eyes.
I should have known that it was something like that,
Jasmine told herself as she slammed the door behind her, disappearing into the night.
***
Gasping for breath, Jasmine awoke nude in a strange white room, disoriented and barely able to focus. Aside from the padded, comfortable table she was strapped to, there was no furniture, doors, or windows. In fact, the entire chamber appeared more akin to the inside of a gigantic egg than anything else. Illumination was present, but it didn’t seem to come from any identifiable source, instead merely laying light on everything in an equal measure.
How much did I have to drink last night?
Baffled, Jasmine tried to conjure memories from whatever it was that came before this ordeal and regretted it immediately. The recollections came back, vivid and strong, but following them was a hefty dose of cerebral pain.
She had run out of the bar, enraged at the stranger, James. Or, more precisely, angry with him showing more interest into her value as a research subject than as a woman.
Although I can’t for the life of me figure out a reason anyone would be interested in my redneck heritage.
Afterward, Jasmine drove home. Or attempted to, anyway. Leaving the parking lot was difficult; she could clearly conjure up the image of the car she had hit while leaving the place (although no vehicle was seriously damaged). The drive home was uneventful, at first. Then came the… the…
Then came a beam of light, straight from above, hitting me right in the eyes and making me lose control,
she finally remembered. This image came with an even more intense amount of pain than the previous ones. For a little bit, Jasmine wondered if the headache was caused by the alcohol she had imbibed or by something else entirely.
Perhaps I’ve hit something, injuring myself in the process,
she thought, before the reality of her situation hit her full force and pulled her out of the hazy state she was in.
There were no further recollections, the beam of light being the last thing Jasmine saw before waking up in this room, immobilized like this. The very second she made that realization, a tight, painful feeling came into existence somewhere around her lower belly, turning into an agonizing inability to breathe within less than a second.
I am being held captive!
The words echoed throughout the inside of her skull, amplifying the pain with every agonizing moment. Shivering, she took the deepest breath she could manage before releasing all the accumulated air in one loud scream.
“HELP!”
Her shriek resounded throughout the round chamber, first growing more powerful, then gradually weakening before it disappeared completely.
Almost immediately afterward, a dull, buzzing sound crept toward Jasmine, originating from somewhere beyond the foot of the table. Then, further amplifying her shock, the wall opened up.
Entering through this newly made oval door was the individual who had previously introduced himself as James. He was completely nude, displaying every impressive piece of muscle that his clothed appearance concealed the first time she saw him. There was not a single piece of fat on that body, and every fiber could be seen moving underneath the skin in a marvelous display of masculinity.
Even strapped to the table and helpless as she was, Jasmine could not help but turn her attention toward his manhood, and what she saw was equally as awe-inspiring as the rest of him, but soon another feature caught her attention and further amplified her panic—the man’s eyes. Devoid of whites and completely green, they glowed in the same way a bar of plutonium would glow in a cheap sci-fi movie. It did not exactly look bad, but rather thoroughly inhuman and, to a person in her position, horrifying.
“Well, well, it appears that my guest is wide awake now,” James commented, taking slow and deliberate strides toward the table.
Oh god, tell me that this isn’t happening.
“Why couldn’t you just go with the program and put your finger into the device as I would have asked you, huh?” Her strange-eyed captor appeared quite angry, but still in control. Yet, given what he’d apparently done to her, there was no telling for how long that would last. “That would have saved you a whole lot of scares and discomfort.”
“What are you doing to me, James? That is your true name, isn’t it?” The captive woman was not sure what kind of tone to take, so she pronounced every word in a slow, cautious way. Anything else was way too risky.
“You didn’t seem this slow last night, Miss Paulson, so I’ll attribute your current lack of focus to disorientation, and maybe your previous intoxication. You
know
what I am going to do to you.”
“You are going to do your tests, right?” Jasmine asked, staring into the man’s bizarre single-colored eyes. They were captivating in a way, and she was just about to get used to the sight, when all of a sudden something changed within them. Several layers of green dots, not unlike diodes, flashed within those orbs, lingering for about half of a second before disappearing again.
Seemingly in response the mechanical buzzing returned, and Jasmine felt her bed move slightly to the right while a strange, chrome-colored contraption sprouted from the floor right next to her. Simultaneously, the door that James had used to enter closed off, disappearing from her sight completely.
Her heart now beating so fast it felt as if it was going to jump out of her chest, she swallowed her own spittle while trying to make sense of the device. It looked like something a dentist would use, maybe within the next century or two. Numerous, oddly shaped instruments stuck out from the five mechanical arms that the thing had, and even though it did not move yet, it horrified her to no end.