Closure

9. The Lab

"Oh, I'm human alright. But YOU'RE not! What kind of person kidnaps a high school senior and puts him in a lab?" I spat out.

He laughed in response. "I didn't kidnap you, son. But you can thank your little friend for making the job easier."

What friend? Could he be talking about Anne May? My mind flashed back to the moment her eyes first filled with fear.

"It's for the best if you stay away from me," she'd warned.

I stared at Doctor Davenport, expecting an explanation. He sighed.

"I'm going to let you go. Only so I may give you a tour of the lab. But you must promise not to run."

"What happens if I run?" I ventured.

"We have security guards everywhere. Depending on how far you get, they'll either tackle you or shoot you."

Gulp.

"I won't run," I promised.

He nodded to his assistant Michael. Michael set down his notebook and pen, then came to unstrap me from the metal table/bed.

I stood up slowly. My legs were wobbly, so I had to grip the edge of the table to regain my balance. I tried to walk again, but to no avail. My clumsy feet brought me back to the drawing board. I cleared my throat awkwardly as I looked at the men.

"Would you like a wheelchair?" Michael asked as he hooked his pen inside the metal rim of his notebook.

"Uh... I think I'll be fine." Stupid.

Michael picked up his notebook and stepped closer to me. He stood next to me and held out his left elbow.

I looked at it, then at him. He made a straight line with his mouth and raised both eyebrows, as if to say "take it".

And so I did. Doctor Davenport went ahead of us, we followed behind him.

"We're leaving the examination room," Doctor Davenport announced. "As the name implies, we simply examine things in this room."

He pressed a silicon square on the wall, and in a few seconds a pair of clear doors slid open. We walked out into a medium sized hallway. It was not big, and neither as narrow as the one in Jean's house. Everything was white, except for the grey floor.

The room was lit by ceiling lights, since there were no windows. I had no idea if I was on the first floor, top floor, or underground. And to be honest, it kinda creeped me out.

Looking ahead, I noticed that Doctor Davenport's hair was messy and grey with scattered streaks of white. To the side, I saw that Michael had dark side parted orange hair. The older man's voice was gruff and menacing, while the younger one's was earnest and soft.

"We will now enter the incubation room," said the old man as we entered a room on the right.

The lights were a little less bright, the room a little smaller. It was like a library of jars. We took another right and walked further along the room until we came to a section with six metal tables.

"This is where you were born," the Doctor revealed. "Except you weren't actually born, per say." He chuckled to himself, amused at his cruel little joke.

"I'm supposed to believe this?"

The assistant pushed back his glasses. "It's true, this is where we create all our subjects."

"I wasn't created here. I have a mom and dad back home!" I cried out.

The man in the wheelchair turned to look at me. He smiled mockingly and said, "Tanner, your 'parents' worked for me."

I stood looking at him in disbelief.

"Let me give you a little history lesson," the old man began. "A long time ago, your parents were both bright scientists in my lab. I told them of my plan, the most controversial yet brilliant experiment that could aid human kind. Clones! We got DNA samples from a dying man and some willing scientists, and put them in tubes. At first, nothing would happen. It was then that Gilbert, your so called 'dad' suggested adding a catalyst that would speed up the development of the clones. Miraculously, it worked! Of course, we lost some of the products. Some died before reaching the fetus stage, and some made it all the way to 'birth'."

"You were a success," Michael affirmed.

If I wasn't the only one who made it out alive, then who else was there?

"How many other..." I hesitated, "-clones survived?" I asked.

"Not many, I can tell you that," Doctor Davenport answered. "But! We were finally able to bring back everyone who escaped."

"Escaped? We were all newborns. How could we escape?"

Doctor Davenport furrowed his eyebrows. "Remember how I said your parents used to work for me?"

I nodded, unsure of what he was getting at.

"Well, they let their emotions get the best of them. The heart of a true scientist must never feel compassion. Your 'parents' were not true scientists." He said 'parents' with a sneer that got my blood rushing.

"Those two, Gilbert and Amaya, stole the lab's successful creations and snuck away from here. They relocated, thinking we'd never find them. It's a crime to steal from a lab, you know?"

"It's a crime to harvest illegal clones," I fought back.

"Smart boy," he smirked and scratched his scruffy chin. "Anyway, they should not have stolen you guys. Only we had the resources to keep you alive. But seeing as we found all of you, they must have stolen some resources too."

"What's the point of having us back if we're almost full grown? You'll have a whole decade of research missing if you decide to keep studying us," I challenged.

"That's true, but we're not studying you still. We're starting over," his eyes lit up and he grinned wickedly. My heart beat fast with fear.

He began to steer himself around the tables, touching them as if they were his prized fragile jewels and not regular black lab tables.

"You know... we still have your data, which will be useful for the new generation of clones. However..." he paused. "A new idea has come up. We've already examined all of you, and you're all perfectly healthy."

I peeked at Michael, and to my surprise he suspiciously gave a quick glance to the side and down.

Doctor Davenport laughed, "Believe it or not, it'll be of great benefit for us. Not just us, but the new clones as well! Do you know what I'm getting at?" He seemed excited. Not like a happy child, but like an evil maniac.

Something gnawed at me in the back of my head, but I pushed it down. I didn't even want to think about what he had planned for us. I'm a smart guy. I can usually tell what people are getting at just by the way they're acting. This time though, I refused to explore the dark crevices of my mind. I knew, that if I dove deep enough, I'd find the answer.

"I don't know," I said simply. Michael seemed impatient. He readjusted his elbow. Tapped his foot. Readjusted his notebook.

A sinister smile spread across the old man's mouth. He said, "You do know. You're just afraid it'll be true."