Free Ultraxenopia (Project W. A. R. Book 1) by M. A. Phipps

his words as well as the terrifying message behind them. “What do you mean?”
I breathe.
    He looks up at me now,
carefully replacing his glasses before folding his hands on the table.
    “You are evolving ,”
he answers. “Developing abilities that other humans can only dream of. Although
I was uncertain of it before, this last trial confirmed my suspicions.” He
pauses and a sly smirk pulls at the corners of his lips. “You are exactly who I
imagined you to be,” he purrs.
    “You said I wouldn’t be
harmed,” I whisper. “You said I would be treated with civility.”
    “Yes,” he admits. “But
certain sacrifices need to be made for the advancement of science.”
    Sacrifices? I nearly scream at him.
How can he act as if what they did to me was anything short of inhuman? It was
torture, plain and simple. Not that I shouldn’t have seen it coming. After all,
that’s what the DSD is known for.
    I gape at him in disbelief,
feeling even more horrified than I was before. But I know that no good will
come of arguing with him. They have the upper hand—my complaints won’t change
that. Hell, they won’t even be recognized.
    My eyes drop, and I wonder
why this had to happen to me. Is what he said true? Would this have occurred
anyway, even if they hadn’t encouraged it? Was this always inevitable? I think
of the man in my vision and Dr. Richter’s reaction to seeing him.
    If I’m going to get
answers, now is the time.
    “The man I saw . . . who is
he?” I ask.
    “His name is Ezra Laramie,”
he mutters in a flat tone. “A known and active member of the insurgent group,
PHOENIX.”
    “Why would I see him?” I
ask, directing the question more to myself.
    “I was hoping you would be able to answer that,” he says.
    I look up at him, and for
one long moment, we simply stare at each other, both speechless with our mutual
confusion. Eventually, he closes his eyes and sighs.
    “You don’t know. That’s to
be expected, I suppose. After all, it hasn’t happened yet.”
    His exasperation with this
whole ordeal is beginning to show through, and I can see his usually stable
composure gradually crumbling away. When I still don’t say anything, his eyes
darken.
    “However, maybe you can
tell me about the rest of it,” he sneers.
    “The rest of what?” I ask.
    “Your vision. Was it a
continuation of what you saw at W. P. Headquarters?”
    I consider him for a few
seconds, debating if it will really do me any good to tell him. I’ve yet to
figure out how I’m going to escape anyway. For the time being, the best thing
to do would be to play along, keep him talking until I can work out what I’m
doing. Even if I don’t trust him.
    “More like . . . a missing
piece out of the middle,” I try to explain.
    “How does it end?” he
breathes.
    I can hear the anticipation
in his voice, and suddenly, I regret opening my mouth at all. He won’t like the
answer to the question he’s asking me, but I don’t see any other choice except
to tell him. I hesitate, feeling more certain than ever that my life is in
danger.
    Dr. Richter fidgets in his
seat as his usually calm façade continues to collapse. “How does it end?” he
shouts, slamming his fist on the table in front of me.
    I take a deep breath, and a
sudden defiance burns within me as I meet his gaze. A smile curls my lips, and
for the first time since I woke up here, I feel like maybe I’m actually
the one with the upper hand.
    “We all die,” I answer.

 
     
     
     
    DR. RICHTER’S EYES WIDEN. HE STARES at
me for a moment before clearing his throat and regaining the composure that he
was so close to losing. Suddenly, he breaks eye contact with me, looking down
at the tablet before swiping his index finger across the top of the screen.
    In a calm voice, he
murmurs, “Could you please come back in?”
    The woman from before
re-enters the room a few seconds later. Her expression is still hollow as she
stands in the doorway like an obedient soldier,