Inevitible Circumstance

Marcus never suspected how far it would go...

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Had it not been for the circumstances, he likely would have enjoyed his time there. The room was luxurious, and the view outside his window was nothing short of spectacular. He awoke, as he did each morning, in a king sized bed wrapped in the warmth of a down comforter. The four-post bed matched the remaining furniture in the room: two nightstands, a large chest of drawers, and a small table with two chairs. Each piece was stained dark ebony, though not so darkly stained as to prevent the exquisite grain of the underlying wood from showing through.

The room itself was painted Wedgewood blue, with white chair rail and white raised panels along the bottom third of the wall. On the wall opposite the bed were two doors, one that led out of the room, and another that opened to a small but comfortable bathroom. It was the large windows, however, that made the room.

The light snow that fell did little to impair the view of the majestic mountains that rose in the distance. The landscape was dotted with some of the largest pine trees he had ever seen, their mighty limbs easily bearing the weight of the snow cover that adorned them. It reminded him of the Rockies, or perhaps the Alps. Yes, he would have quite enjoyed it but for one fact: He had absolutely no idea where he was, or how he had gotten there.

The table and two chairs rested below the large windows, and that was where he would take his meals each day. Whoever his captors were, they certainly treated him well. With a full supply of books for entertainment, and a treadmill in the corner for exercise, anyone else would be hard pressed to describe him as a prisoner. If not for the automatic watch on his wrist, which they graciously allowed him to keep, he would have lost track of how long he had been there. Glancing at the date on his timepiece, he determined that it was a Tuesday, and he had been there for six days.

He dressed in the clothes he had been provided – a pair of jeans, thick wool socks, white T-shirt, and a grey, hoodie sweatshirt from which the tie had been removed. Any thought of escaping into the cold and snowy wilderness was swiftly quashed by the fact that they did not provide him shoes.

The knock on the door startled him, though it came at the same time each day. The male voice in the hall instructed him, as it did every day, to step into the bathroom and shut the door. He did as commanded while a young girl brought him his breakfast and set it on the table. This he knew only because he left the bathroom door slightly ajar, affording him a peek out into the room. Her long, dark hair contrasted her pale complexion, and she neither wore, nor needed, any makeup as far as he could tell. She had a natural radiance, despite the overwhelming mask of sorrow she wore on her face.

His curiosity and anxiety finally got the better of him, and when he was sure he had sufficient room and time to make it to the door, he burst out of the bathroom. To his surprise, the door slammed shut the moment he reached for it, entrapping the young girl with him inside. There was no voice from the hall, no instruction, no reprimand. Only silence. Silence, and a frightened young woman.

When Marcus was finally able to get a good look at her, he realized that she wasn’t quite as young as he had thought. She was perhaps ten years younger than he, and her near-perfect beauty was marred only by a small scar on her upper lip. She stood motionless by the window, fearful of what the man might do. He did nothing, and would do nothing. His quarrel, to the extent there was a quarrel, was not with her. He spoke to try and ease her apprehension.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, and I’m not going to harm you. My name is Marcus. What’s yours?”

She looked at him with skepticism, but answered. “Irina.”

Marcus moved slowly towards her, causing her to take two cautious steps backwards towards the door. He sat down at the table, and beckoned her to sit with him. Reluctantly, she sat. “Irina, do you know where we are?”

“Yes,” she answered simply and without elaboration.

“Do you know why I’m here?”

“Yes,” she replied again.

“But you can’t tell me, can you?”

“No.”

Marcus let out a deep sigh and looked down at the breakfast she had brought to him. This morning it was two poached eggs, three slices of bacon, wheat toast with orange marmalade, and a glass of juice.

“Would you like some?” he politely inquired. She shook her head, refusing his offer. He ate just the same. He was hungry, and wanted to keep his strength up just in case. Just in case for what, he had no clue. Irina sat silently as he ate, staring at him the whole while. When he was finished, he spoke again.

“Why did they lock you in here with me? Why didn’t someone subdue me and allow you to leave?”

Irina glared at him coldly. “You really have no idea why you’re here, do you?”

Marcus leaned back and momentarily returned her hard gaze, before his eyes softened and he sighed. “No, I really don’t.”

Irina sat stoically with her arms crossed, her stare fixed on his face. As he examined her eyes, which were a deep, jade green, a burst of revelation overcame him. He knew those eyes. Though the name she gave was unfamiliar, he knew those eyes.

“You’re Viktor’s sister, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Marcus leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. Things were starting to make sense. He now knew his captor’s identity, and had his suspicions as to his motive. He pressed Irina for answers. He sensed in her both anger and fear, though he couldn’t determine at whom it was directed – towards Marcus, or her brother. He was also fairly certain that Viktor was spying in on them, sure that there were microphones placed strategically throughout the room. There were no cameras that he could speak of.

“Irina, why am I here?” Irina looked down and away without answering, prompting him to query further. “What does Viktor want? Why has he brought me here?”

The answer to his question came not from Irina, but from Viktor himself as he walked through the door. Irina stood and stepped backwards, and Marcus immediately knew that her anger and fear were not directed at him. She was terrified of Viktor, and visibly trembled.

“You know why you’re here, Marcus. Don’t play coy.”

“Viktor, whatever it is,” Marcus began. Viktor did not let him continue.

“You cost me everything, Marcus. We were so close, and you got cold feet. You cost me my life’s work.”

Marcus now knew what Viktor wanted, and grew angry. His eyes narrowed and he balled his hands into fists. “It was unethical, Viktor, and you knew it. It wasn’t ready for trials.”

“It is now,” Viktor replied coldly. The grin that spread across his face filled Marcus with terror. In order to activate the serum, they needed to cure it with a sample of the subject’s blood for seven days. Marcus’s eyes widened as he frantically pulled the sweatshirt up over his head and examined his arm. Sure enough, there was a tiny scab on his right forearm just below the crook of his elbow, where the needle had been inserted. He neither noticed it before, nor had any reason to. Anger filled his eyes as he looked back up at his captor.

“Viktor, what have you done?”


© J.J. Goodman 2013. All rights reserved.