Lizard Larson and the Time Keeper (eBook)

THE FACILITY

Lizard’s mind stirred. Thoughts of her apartment and the safety of her room entered her head. In a half sleep, she realized something was wrong. She faintly remembered an explosion – a flash of light. Was it real? But now, strange sounds drew her to this present. A subtle, reverberating hum, or could it be the whirring of some distant vehicle? Regardless, she was certain this present didn’t include her comfortable bed, her prized things surrounding her, or the safety of her parents. She sensed a coldness and staleness around her while her eyes continued to be heavy and resistant to responding. Pressed against her back, she felt a biting metal. Beyond that, her body ached. Her head throbbed.

The whirring passed again. Not sure of the sound, but she couldn’t be sure of anything. She jolted upright into that heady unknown, confused and unnerved. She raised her hand to her eyes, anticipating a stinging brightness. It took great effort to open her eyelids. But when she finally did, the room was dimly lit, awash in a blue-hued light. She had no idea of her whereabouts or what had happened, but everything around her looked strange and foreboding.

Her vision gradually adjusted, and the walls, floor, and ceiling reflected a shiny metallic material. The surface of the room distorted her image, along with the ethereal glow of blue. The room was small, windowless, with a heavy metal door at one end. A stainless-steel cot lay beneath her. Also in the room was an adjoining steel table with a glass of water, a small steel sink, and a steel toilet.

A sense of alarm crept inside her. She hopped up and reached for the handle on the door. It didn’t budge – presumably, locked from the other side. Let me out! she wanted to shout, but the panic prevented her. Lizard banged on the solid metal door. Her fist made nothing more than a deadened sound against the thickness. She found her voice and called out, again and again, until a wash of emotion caught up with her. She had no recourse but to sob uncontrollably as her cries went unanswered.

Where were her parents? What happened to them? Why was she confined to this room? Her day had quickly gone from bad to worse. Fraught with anxiety, questions, and fear, Lizard sank to the floor, huddled in a cold metallic corner, hugging her knees. The floor chilled her. Her hoodie was gone. The thin material of the T-shirt didn’t keep her warm, and goosebumps rose on her arms. She desperately wanted her mother and father, but she worried that they, too, might be locked up somewhere or maybe worse – something terrible had happened to them.

Alone and afraid, Lizard tried to gain hold of her senses. She had to think things through. Whatever happened at Grand Central must be the reason she was here in this antiseptic prison cell. That man, Jeret, was someone her parents knew. He mentioned something about a Bureau, a director, and a facility. But most importantly, he wanted something her father had created. Except she recollected that Jeret said her father didn’t have it. In that case, who did and what did he want from them? She remembered trying to run for the train – Jeret yanking her back. There was that metal orb that sprung open. The pressure – a high-pitched whistling sound, the fear in her parents’ eyes, then – the explosion. That terrible explosion still rang in her ears.

Her mind raced with every thought imaginable – a bomb detonated, but she was still in one piece. Lizard examined her body for any wounds or injuries, but there didn’t appear to be any. No visible scratches or bruises anywhere. She also had no memory of being brought into this place. A hospital, perhaps? But no machines or medical supplies were visible anywhere, nothing to indicate that she was in a medical facility of any kind. Perhaps imprisoned, being held against her will for some unknown reason. She couldn’t help but think the worst.

Lizard questioned the passing of time. How long had she been locked in here? She glanced at her wrist. Fortunately, Lizard still had possession of her watch. But the timepiece had stopped, wound down apparently. The hands stood motionless at 6:35. If the train at Grand Central departed at 12:48 in the afternoon, just when the explosion happened, approximately six hours had elapsed – maybe eighteen, depending on whether it was day or night. Her analog watch didn’t indicate a.m. or p.m. One couldn’t tell in this closed fortress if the sun was still up or if night had descended. Could she have been unconscious that long? If she had taken it further, days could have passed, but she suppressed the thought of the possibility. Instead, she wound the watch all the way through until it began to tick again.

Lizard continued to call out, hoping someone would answer – hoping someone would come to the door, but her voice bounced off the walls, taunting her solitude further. She settled into the subtle ticking of her watch. After a while, the crying got the best of her, and ultimately, Lizard dozed off in the corner of the room.

She awoke to the whirring sound from outside the door. Lizard looked up at the ceiling and noticed broken shafts of white light from an air vent penetrate the blue tint in the room. She stretched to get a glimpse, but it was too high to see anything distinguishable out of the vent. She wanted to move a piece of furniture to climb up, but they were bolted to the floor. Someone was out there. At this point, she didn’t care. She wanted some answers and someone to open that door, whether they were friendly or not. However, the sound dissipated as soon as it came.

Hours passed as anxiety continued to build that Lizard might be left unnoticed forever. Walking in circles became tedious. Her wristwatch read 11 o’clock, but she still had no idea if it was day or night. She rewound it to count the time, if nothing else. She remembered possessing her backpack at Grand Central. Everything was in it – her phone, books, wallet, and keys. Any of her belongings would have helped pass the insufferable time.

Once again, the whirring approached. But this time, the screech of brakes dulled the noise – muffled voices assembled outside the door.

Lizard scampered close. “Hello? Hey!” she shouted.

A moment passed. Then the door unlatched. Cautiously, Lizard backed away. The door opened, folded upon itself, without hinges or friction. The brightness outside glared, but once her eyesight adjusted, Lizard saw they were still enclosed inside a building. A hallway of some sort presented itself. Three men stood on the threshold, silhouetted against the light. One of them stepped forward as the brightness in the tiny room grew.

As light shed across him, Lizard could see the large, muscular man. He wore a navy blue uniform adorned with military symbols she couldn’t identify under a transparent protective suit. A prominent patch on his shirt had a three-quarters circle with hash marks and a narrow-inverted V in the middle embroidered in white stitching. A black leather belt with holsters and pouches strapped around his waist. Even though he wore headgear and a face shield, Lizard could see his dark brown eyes focus on her. The face – hard and chafed – deep lines in the forehead – blonde hair trimmed to a crew.

“I’m Special Agent Gavin Elffans.” He dragged a chair in from the hallway. “Please, sit down.” He spoke calmly but with authority while pointing to the cot. His voice was clear and intelligible through the transparent face shield.

The agent sat on the chair and waited for Lizard to do the same. Although the man sounded friendly, he looked intimidating yet seemingly uncomfortable around a fourteen-year-old.

“This must be very unsettling.” He paused, realizing she declined to sit. “I understand you have been through quite a bit already.” He stared at Lizard. His eyes revealed misgivings. “You’re under quarantine. We need to be sure you’re not carrying any contamination from the explosion. A suspected biohazard may have been involved.” The agent looked for some common ground between them, but none existed.

Lizard inspected him with suspicion, but she didn’t quite grasp his logic. She started to speak but decided against it.

“You must be hungry.” He snapped his fingers at one of the men standing in the hallway. He, in turn, waved to another out of view. Without missing a beat, a soldier, also wearing a protective suit, entered from around the corridor and into the room carrying a silver tray. He placed the tray on the metal table next to the cot. The soldier lingered awkwardly for a moment, catching glimpses of Lizard as he fiddled with the tray and its contents. With his back turned to the agent, he gave Lizard a strange expression. The soldier didn’t dare give the look away to the agent, and Lizard was too distracted to read anything into it.

“That’ll be all, soldier.” Agent Elffans raised his voice dismissively. The soldier remained a little too long for his liking.

The soldier turned, his eyes on the ground before him, and marched out the way he came in. On the tray, finely presented on a porcelain plate, was a peanut butter sandwich and an apple, red-colored juice in a fancy glass, an elegant cloth napkin, silverware, and a single white daisy in a dainty vase. Did they think they were going to play teatime at her expense? Only when she received some answers.

“Go on,” the agent pointed to the food.

Lizard sat down on the cot, not once taking her eyes off the...