Mimic

Chapter 13

Beau

My eyes fly open and immediately land on Emily. Her hands cover her mouth, and her eyes are fixed on the scene in front of us. Michael, the man who created the illusion we were in, is lying on the floor. He's dead. The light is gone from his eyes and blood is pooling on the wooden floor around his head.

I scour the room for the weapon and find it where I expected it: Dr. Young's hand. Apparently, he was watching the illusion of us and heard what Michael said. Deciding that Emily is too distraught to be a threat, the Doctor quickly shifts the weapon to point directly at my chest. Even without being able to see, he has perfect aim. I don't want to test him when he can see me a few feet away. I slowly raise my hands to show myself not a threat either.

"I do hope that I won't have any trouble from you two. I so hate to get my hands dirty," he says with a bored tone, but the underlying threat is clear and nowhere near empty. I decide to get us out safely instead of playing the hero, so I nod slowly.

"Good," he starts, pushing some loose hairs back in place but not wavering his aim. "Now, are you going to answer my questions?"

"Why did you... kill him?" Emily asks, her voice breaking from the shock.

"Well, my dear, he didn't do what was asked of him, and that made me a bit angry," he explains with a slight chuckle, unknowingly sounding completely deranged. "And, as one would expect, I don't appreciate it very much when people make me angry," he pauses. "Now are you going to answer my questions?" he pushes.

Emily is still as a statue, frozen in her current position, so I nod for the both of us.

"Good. Let's start with the most obvious question: How did you get so many abilities, darling?" he asks with feigned sincerity.

Emily stays frozen, scared and shocked to the point of immobilization.

Dr. Young slams his empty fist on the desk in front of her before I could answer the question. "How?!" he shouts.

Emily jumps in her seat and stutters, choking back tears, "I—I don't know."

"She doesn't know anything," I vouch, reaching my hand out and taking hers.

"And you do?" he questions, still ignoring that Emily is not in the slightest okay.

"No, sir," I respond.

"Well, I can't very well let you go," he explains, shrugging with the shoulder that isn't keeping a pistol aimed at my heart. "Your allegiances may change, and Miss Dawson here wasn't loyal to me in the first place."

"Sir," I interject hesitantly, holding one of my hands up as I rub Em's hand with the other. "I don't mean to question you," I pause, "but I'm your personal assistant. You have eyes and ears on not just me but everyone in this building every second of every day. Emily knows that, and she just saw what you are capable of. You can see how well she's taking that." I feel her squeeze my hand slightly. "Do you really think we would qualify as a flight risk?"

"You make a convincing case," he says after debating the facts. "You may leave if you answer one question for me."

"Anything."

"Is she still gaining abilities?"

I look at Emily to see if she has anything to say about it, but she's still in shock, and is still mostly beyond the point of functioning for the moment.

I hesitate but answer to the best of my knowledge. "Yes."

"You may leave." He lowers his gun, and I release the breath I didn't realize I was holding.