Like Orion & Spark

10: I Have to Commit a Crime First, But I'll Be There On Time for Class

It was the only way I could prove I wasn't crazy. It was the only way I could get access to the documents on EVE-1.

It was six in the morning, an hour before the MARS facility would open its doors. If I'd learned anything about the layout from my interview, it was that the downstairs laboratories were locked. If I wanted to get inside, I would have to find the keys.

Before that, though, I needed to figure out how I was getting inside without being seen. I tied a sweater around my waist and snuck out of my room, making my steps as quiet as possible as I passed through.

After a quick bus ride, and an even quicker walk down the road, I was standing in front of the same building I walked inside the morning before. It was atop a tiny hill, with a sign outside displaying the acronym in silvery letters that glimmered as the sun rose through the darkening clouds like an omen. There were multiple doors, all of them locked.

I ducked into the bushes and untied the sweater. It was the closest thing I had to anonymity. From the pocket, I retrieved a bandanna and carefully tied it around my neck, covering my mouth.

I glanced upwards, tossed my hood up, and waited. The clouds inched across the sky in tiny increments, shedding a patch of shade on the grass. Lifting my hands through the air, I focused. Trying to remember the sensation of everything I felt when I broke the lightbulb. The electricity curling through the air, wrapping around my wrist, flooding through my veins.

Rain pattered onto my hood, dampening my clothes. I snapped back to reality and crept towards the door.

I could see the lights through the tinted windowpanes as I reached for the doorknob. As my hand grazed the dull metal, it sent a shock through me. The feeling settled at the base of my palm, and I held my breath and twisted the handle. With a soft click, it unlocked, and I slowly inched my body through the gap.

My steps echoed off the linoleum tiles. It sounded hollow against the empty halls, as though the building knew I wasn't supposed to be there. I eased the door closed behind me and balled my hands into fists, concentrating.

Wind rattled the glass. I chewed on the inside of my cheek and mentally reeled myself back to that day in Matt's room. That feeling of the lightbulb; the same second sense I felt every time I stood in the cafeteria, underneath the strip of lights I somehow knew had the wrong sort of bulb.

My eyes closed. I tilted my chin in the general direction of the hallway, waiting for the dots of light to fade. Instead, the spotted circles expanded, until I could see each trail as it turned towards me, like fireflies.

My eyes flew open, and I realized I was staring directly at a camera propped facing the door. I could hear it as it hummed.

Carefully, I raised my hand to my chest, my nails digging into my palms deep enough that it felt like I might draw blood.

I was already the crazy guy who'd lingered in the doorway with his eyes closed for an uncomfortably long amount of time. What else did I have to lose?

"Turn off," I whispered. For a silent second, nothing happened. But then the lens flickered, and I watched as every single camera on the floor bowed its head and turned off.

I did it. I can't believe that actually worked.

I didn't have time to adequately celebrate my success as the sound of footfalls reverberated off the walls. I scuttled underneath the stairs until I was safely hidden from sight. I peeked between the space on the stairs and the above railing, and the voices got closer and closer.

The muddled sound of two pairs of shoes descended the stairs. The first was wearing dress pants and flat shoes. A set of keys attached to the pocket of their lab coat jingled.