Matthew Helsdon

4°12’08.08”S 20°11’23.70”E THE FALL

HE AWOKE, TO THE SOUND OF SOMEONE walking on the cold, copsteltic

room, wishing that this was all just a dream. The door opened slowly. The boy had sunk as far back into the corner as he could. The man who appeared was short, white-haired and aging, but despite his appearance, the boy knew just how dangerous this man could be; he touched the burn on his right shoulder: terrible and his ears were ringing, but knowing that he had to escape as soon as possible, David stood up and limped out of the room, holding the wall for balance. He looked around, trying to decide which way to go. He turned right, at random, hoping that this was the correct direction.

“Get up, David,” the man said in his quiet, menacing voice.

When the boy did not move, the man took a step closer to him and repeated himself. When again, the boy remained still, the man kicked him with a strength much too great for a man his age. The boy fell onto his side and slowly stood up, bleeding from his lip. The boy slowly followed the man out the door, having no idea how he knew his name.

They walked down a long, empty hall, and turned into a room, roughly the same size as the one that David had woken up in. There was a man waiting for them there. He was a large and muscular and silent, but did not need to speak to get his message across: it would not be a problem for him to capture and kill the scrawny boy, if it came to that. He moved in front of the door, blocking the only exit from the room, as the other man turned towards David with a small needle. The boy stood, paralyzed with fear, as he came closer and closer with it.

“This is Reconventium,” the man said, and then, answering the boy’s arm and the instrument was plunged into his bicep. The pain was excruciating.

He heard the click of the door opening and looked up. The two men were leaving the room. Before he exited, the older man, who David could only assume was some kind of deranged doctor or scientist, looked down and said with a crooked half-smile, “You’re free to leave now,” and with this, he half-turned; but then, almost as a last thought, he said, “One last thing,” and pulled out a powerclum and pointed it towards the boy.

He began walking faster out of desperation. He was soon sprinting, turning corners at random, never knowing where he was or which way to go next in hallway. It was empty, of course, just like all the others that he had passed through. He continued walking and, turning another corner, he saw a single door at the end of the hallway, with light spilling out beneath it. He approached the door slowly, turned the handle. The door opened slowly and he stepped through, to the other side. saw many small cubicles, each with a desk, chair and computer. There was a set of large windows on the opposite side of the room. He suddenly heard the buzz of an intercom.

“Hello,” the voice said. David recognized it as the doctor’s. “I really am pleased at how our other patients… those that made it this far, of course.”

The boy’s eyes darted around the room, looking for the speaker, but he saw nothing and realized that a transmittone must have been sending the sound waves straight into his brain. He ran back to the room’s only door and tried the knob, but it was locked. He searched

“You can search all you want, David, but there is only one other way out of this place, side of the room. “A ten-story drop. It would be fatal for any ordinary human, but thanks to me, you are far from ordinary.”

David had no idea what the man was talking about, but then he had a sudden thought: his leg. It no longer hurt to take a step, to put pressure on it. He sat in a chair and leaned over to take a look at his wound, but when he looked, there was no longer anything there, except for a bit of dried blood and a small scar. A wound that should have left him in a hospital had healed in less than an hour.

The intercom buzzed to life again. “Yes. The serum we gave you has this ability. It connects the groche inhibitors in your brain with your nervous system, allowing your body to perform cellular regeneration at a heightened speed. Now it is time for pause, “Congratulations David. You are patient number 16. You are the next step in the evolutionary chain.” And just as quickly as it had come to life, the intercom cut out again.

The boy walked over to the window and stared towards the ground. Was this really possible? Was this really happening? After searching the room one last time for any other possible escape routes, he grabbed a chair from one of the desks and threw it through the window, shattering the glass. He glanced back toward the desk, and saw a set of coordinates on the computer screen: 4°12’08.08”S 20°11’23.70”E.

Looking back out the

As the building rushed past, David could have sworn that, just for a second, he saw a small, white-haired man, smiling as he watched him fall. Then, he felt the impact of the ground, and everything went black.

down and checked for a pulse from the small, broken child. He felt nothing. He would have to perform several more tests before he could be sure, but it was not looking good.

“What a shame,” he said in a cold, emotionless voice. Then, to the other man, “Prepare patient number 17 for the fall.”