Chapter Two - ? - 4/18/89 - 6:00am
"She's coming around..."
"...started to think...overdose..."
"Find Williams..."
Voices faded in and out of Jaime's mind as she began to surface from the effects of the chloroform. When she was finally able to open her eyes, she was sure she had overdosed and was dead. The face leaning over her, concern written all over it, was one she'd known well, and even loved, before his death more than five years earlier.
"Hi there," he said softly.
"Chris..." she mumbled in a barely audible whisper. "Then - I'm dead?"
Chris Williams smiled fondly at her. "No, Honey, you're not. Neither am I."
"I...I don't understand...why?"
Chris shrugged. "Guess I'd outlived my usefullness, and they felt I was too valuable to be cut loose on my own."
Jaime's head was out of the fog, and she began to grasp what he was saying. The Island, she told herself; mission accomplished. She decided to play groggy a little while longer, to get as much information as she could. "Where ...are...we?"
Chris took her hand and spoke as soothingly as he could. "It's sort of an elite retirement community for the OSI's best and brightest."
"Is this The Island?" Jaime asked, knowing the answer.
"Honey, the only people who call it that are the ones who haven't been here."
"Ok, well now I've been here, seen it; where do I get my ticket home?"
"Jaime," he said haltingly, "That's the catch. It's really great here, anything you could ever want or need -"
"Chris, you sound like a damn Moonie. What happened to you?"
"What do you mean?"
"The Chris I knew would've fought tooth and nail to live his life free, on his own terms...So how'd they do it?"
"What?"
"How'd they get to you? 'Cause I don't know about you, but I want my life back. My life."
Chris shook his head sadly and stepped away from the bed as two uniformed orderlies came closer. One of them produced a syringe and stuck Jaime in her thigh. The second orderly slapped the side of the first one's head. "Not there, you moron! She's the cyborg...gotta stick her arm - the left one. You're lucky I brought a spare." He pulled a needle from his pocket and did what his partner had failed to do. Within seconds, Jaime once again faded to black.
'The Island' - Cell #4 - 4/18/89 - 5:00pm
Consciousness didn't come as easily for Jaime this time. She faded in and out for quite some time, and it was early evening before she was alert enough to assess her surroundings. She was in a small containment cell, about ten feet by ten feet, solid metal walls, barred in the front, thin mattress on the floor in the far corner. For a few minutes, she couldn't remember where she was or why, but a very familiar voice from the cell next to hers reminded her of her purpose here.
"Jaime?" The voice was very quiet, but it was Oscar! "Are you awake?"
"Oscar?"
"There's a camera in the corner diagonally opposite your mattress; face away from it and we can talk."
Jaime sighed with relief. "Are you alright?"
"Well, I was - at least as alright as a person can be here - until I saw them drag you past me and throw you in there. Babe, what happened?"
"I had a feeling they sent you here, and I knew it wouldn't be with your consent. So I picked a fight with Steve and resigned," Jaime explained.
"I really wish you hadn't done that..."
"Where are we now?" Jaime asked him. "Some sort of prison for the ones who don't go with the program?"
"Exactly. Ultra-maximum security."
"Hey, no worries, Oscar. I can bend us out of these little bars, no sweat."
"No. You can't. The halls are covered with motion detectors - double key, double code system to shut 'em off." He was glad Jaime couldn't see the un-Oscar-like grief on his face. "Babe, you really shouldn't have come here."
"Well, at least we'll both have company while we figure out what to do."
'The Island - Cell #4 - 4/18/89 - 10:00pm
When the lights were turned out promptly at 10:00, Jaime laid down on the thin mattress, feeling very much alone. If what Oscar had told her was true, that there really was no way out, there was still absolutely no way she'd ever agree to life on their terms; she'd spend the rest of her life in this cell first.