Chapter 2
Day 2
His memory faded; Michael felt himself waking up. He tried to rub his eyes, but couldn't. After blinking them open a few times, he finally managed to keep them open. The rectangular room, which had two other beds, one on each side of Michael, was generally large. Each bed had a few instruments beside it, things that doctors would use on hospital patients, though Michael didn't know enough about medical stuff to identify them. A single, mahogany wood door almost popped out against the cream colored wall at the far side of the room. A small TV was centered between the three beds, and was turned off. Though covered by his sweatshirt and jeans he could feel that his wrists and ankles were strapped down.
Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead, traveled down his chin, reaching his neck before evaporating suddenly, feeling seconds of refreshing coolness before feeling slightly warm.
The light… Michael thought as he began to stare at the almost blinding florescent lights that dotted the ceiling. It feels like it's, burning me… He felt like running and hiding in the darkest place in the world.
It felt like hours passed by the time the door to the room opened.
"Good morning," a slightly-low pitched voice spoke as its owner came walking into the room. He looked like he was in his late fifties. His gray hairs and receding hairline suggested he was older than that. He cleared his throat then said: "How... do you feel?"
Michael sensed no emotion in the man's question, like he was used to asking everyone that.
"Fine," he lied. Michael felt far from it, but was trying to stay calm.
"I am Dr. Stafford." the man said. It almost sounded forced. So much for the bedside manner. Michael swore the doctor was on a verge of ending that sentence with a long old man sigh. The doctor had his focus on the clipboard in his hands, flipping through documents, and hardly spared a glance at Michael.
Suddenly thinking of Lauren, Michael spoke out of the blue.
"My sister," he said, almost shakingly, out of both fear and anger. "Lauren, where is she?"
Michael realized that his voice had changed; it sounded deeper, like he had aged really fast in a short time. But why he was angry all of a sudden? Michael was confused on where all his anger was coming from. He felt himself getting very warm now, and his vision blurred for a second.
Doctor Stafford had a face that said, "I really wish I weren't here right now." But Michael felt there was more to it than that. He sensed fear. Like he was actually thinking "Holy shit if he suddenly broke those ties..." in his head. Stafford was scared of him.
Since when could Michael sense fear like that?
"Your sister," Stafford said. "is all right. She suffered no major injuries from the accident, and was released within half an hour. You, on the other hand…" He paused for a moment. "Well, you've probably figured out why you're still here." He smiled in an attempt to show that he was trying to be polite. It didn't help. But Michael was relieved to know that Lauren was okay. He just hoped that she knew he was okay as well.
"You didn't sustain any injuries at all," Stafford continued. "Which is surprising, based off of how much damage the right side of the car took…"
"So, uh, when do I leave?" Michael cut in.
Dr. Stafford did not answer.
"You said I was fine. But why can't I leave?" Michael asked.
Stafford just shook his head. "I'll be nice and won't sugarcoat it for you. You're a threat to the world…" He flipped through his clipboard, apparently finding what he was looking for. He showed the page to Michael. He couldn't believe what he was looking at.
The picture looked somewhat low-res, giving away that is was an ametur photo. In the photo was a completely wrecked car. It was Lauren's Ford Fusion, Michael could tell. Someone was on the ground on the right side of the Fusion. Sprawled, the person had black fur all over their body, except for parts of their limbs; golden ovals showed amidst the black fur. The person's mouth hung open, revealing two pairs of fangs, one on the upper jaw and the other on the lower jaw. What really stuck out to Michael, however, were the ears. Where human ears should have been were long, pointed ears, each with a golden ring that went around them.
"No, that isn't me," Michael said shakingly. He was avoiding the fact that he somehow knew that this was him; he knew that was what this doctor was implying. "Nice photoshop skills, though. Please, let me leave now."
Stafford heard a slight change in Michael's voice when he finished his sentence. He also noticed that Michael's whole body was intensifying.
Stafford was afraid this would happen.
He pulled out an advanced looking cell phone. He tapped a few buttons, put the phone to his ear, and turned around.
"Is it ready?" Stafford tried to whisper, yet Michael could hear him anyway.
Stafford was becoming more afraid of Michael by the second, half expecting him to slink right out of his ties and snuff Stafford's life. But he had to keep his cool. Or else Michael will realize what they're going to do to him and kill everyone here. Upon hearing his colleague's reply, Stafford went to leave the room. But when he tried the door, it was locked.
Mumbling angrily, Stafford pulled out a ring of keys, leaving his clipboard on the table beside Michael's bed. Michael silently struggled to break free.
Stafford found the right key and opened the translucent windowed door to leave the room; locking it behind him. The moment the door clicked, Michael budged his left wrist upward in an attempt to break the tie. He did it on his first try. Same with the other wrist as well. After untying his ankles, Michael slid off the bed and landed on the floor feet first. He picked up the clipboard off the table and rummaged through some of the papers.
One page caught his attention, having a picture of a giant piston looking machine in a badly lit room. Among the many other sketches and scribbles on the page, "Extinction" was written in bold letters near the top. To Michael, none of what he was looking at mattered. He knew he just had to get the hell out of there.
