The Variables

“You could’ve killed us both,” Darla said to him, angry. The light in the corner the elevator illuminated Dean’s face, and she saw that he was in pain. He winced as he tried to push himself to the side while cradling his foot in his hands. “Are you okay?” she asked.

He nodded.

From above them they could hear Ainsley’s panicked voice calling to them, but her small shrieks became smaller and traveled further away. The light from above disappeared entirely, and it was getting colder.

“Will she be okay there by herself?” Dean asked.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you dropped fifteen feet into a moving elevator,” Darla replied. “Can you stand?” she asked him.

“Yup,” he replied and he allowed himself to be helped up. He leaned against Darla’s shoulder.

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Darla said, the elevator bounced further down, and made no movement to stop anytime soon.

“I’m a coward,” he replied.

Darla looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “A shocking admission,” she replied with a grin.

“But,” he continued, eyeing her, “I wasn’t going to let you do this by yourself.”

Her smile faded and she turned to face Dean. “Thank you,” she said.

“Thank you.”

She was dismissive. “I’m scared,” she added after a beat.

“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

The lift slowed, the gears screeched, and then the whole thing came to a stop. Nothing happened. They stared forward at a shiny wall. Darla took a step forward and pushed on the wall and it shifted under her touch and slid forward. Light flooded their metal container, and Darla pushed the door open more, and then finally all the way.

Extending beyond them was a long hallway. It was well lit, but empty. They moved out of the elevator with caution and began to traverse the stretch of space before them.

“Where are we?” Dean asked in a whisper.

Darla shook her head and placed a finger to her lips.

They continued to walk, cognizant of their footsteps against the tiled floor, their eyes trained forward on the exit in front of them. This hall was empty, but there was no indication of what they would find behind the next closed door. They turned the knob when they reached the end and to their surprise saw the metal doors of a second elevator. They pushed the button and held their breath.

The doors opened and they stepped inside. Dozens of shiny buttons lined the panel but a hand sca

They stood there confused and shaken. This was the only way out of their current floor—which contained the elevator to the surface—and without a code, or a registered hand swipe, their journey would be over before it had begun. Before they had time to assess the best way to navigate their roadblock, they heard a small peal, and the doors closed automatically. They started to move down.

Darla swore and pushed her body against the side, obscuring her body from view. Dean followed suit on the other side, tucking himself into the corner.

Down they traveled. And when it stopped, and the doors opened, they held their breath and waited.

A large man in a uniform walked steadily on to the elevator with them. He spotted Darla first and went for his gun, but Dean punched him in the jaw with a well-placed blow and the man reeled backward and stumbled to the floor. Dazed, he took a swipe at Darla, but she held the gun to the center of his forehead and leaned down so he could feel her breath against his face.

The doors closed. Dean reached in and unhooked the gun and the holster, and left the man without a weapon. The man’s hand went to his other pocket, but Darla stepped on his arm. She shoved her foot into the ground and dug her heel into his flesh. He cried out.

“See what he was going for,” Darla ordered and Dean reached down and pulled out a walkie-talkie. She tilted her head, “Oh, I see. Calling for back-up?”

The man scoffed. “You won’t get ten feet off of this elevator,” he spat. Then he sca

“Copia?” Darla scoffed. “That’s what this place is called?”

The man eyed the gun and tired to jerk his hand upward, but Darla’s foot was firm and she pushed harder, until he fell backward to the ground. “You don’t know what you walked into,” he said weakly. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me go, and then you’ll quietly disappear back up toward the surface. That’s my present for you today…and you have no idea what it’s worth.”

“Oh? You’ll just let us walk out of here? Like it’s no big deal?” Darla dropped down over him and pushed her gun harder into his forehead. “A ploy made by a man who has clearly lost the upper hand,” she added. “I’m looking for some people and maybe you can help me find them.”

“You won’t succeed,” the man said again. “It doesn’t matter if I take you where you want to go or not...you have thirty minutes to get out of here or you’re going to die. And you can take me with you. But this won’t end well. I’m more confident in your failure than anything else right now.”

“Why don’t you humor me,” Darla continued. “Maybe we can start with a name you might know. I’m looking for Ethan King.”

The man laughed and shook his head. “If it’s Ethan you’re after then you’re going to have to shoot me.”

“Why?” Darla asked.

“Ethan’s long gone, lady.”

“He’s gone from Copia?” Dean asked this time, leaning forward. He still held the man’s gun in front of him and the walkie-talkie to his side.

The guy smiled. “Yeah. No Copia for him.”

“Then what about the boy they brought here? The child? Do you know anything about him?” Darla gave his forehead a small tap with her gun. And the man stared at it like it was a fly buzzing around his head.

“You’re after the boy?” He shook his head. “You’re too late, guys. Their ship has sailed. And you should get out of here while you still can.”

“No,” Dean replied and he stepped over and crouched down. “There’s one more. What about Gr—”

The walkie-talkie crackled in Dean’s hand and he looked down at it. A voice called through the box.

“Attention Guard Command Three. Please finish up your sweep and return to the Center for operation King’s Box. I repeat finish up your sweep and report to the lab to be equipped for operation King’s Box.”

“Guard Command Three,” Darla repeated. “That you?”

The man nodded curtly. “Private Ryley at your service, apparently.”

“King’s Box?” Dean held the walkie out. “What’s that?”

Darla interjected before he could answer, “I want to see where Teddy stayed. I want to see...I need to see that he’s not here. Swipe your hand and take me there. Now.”

“Look—”

“Do it,” Darla snapped. She released her foot from his arm and dragged him over to the corner; she placed the gun against the back of his head and then nudged him with her knee. “Do it,” she said again, quieter and more intense.

Without another word, the man swiped his hand and entered a floor number when prompted.

“How do I know you’re not just taking us to a floor to be ambushed?” she asked. “Get in position, Dean. Raise the weapon.” Dean stood front and center, shoving the walkie-talkie into his pants and aiming the guard’s gun out from his body, holding it with both hands.

The guy shook his head. “You don’t,” he answered. “But you’re the one who didn’t walk away when I gave you the chance. So whatever happens now is all on you.”

He took them to a floor that opened up to several hallways. Each hallway was marked as a Pod by labels above the doors. With a gun pushed into his back, Ryley opened up one of the pod doors and led them down to the King apartment. The door was wide open; the remnants of that life remained scattered along the floor: clothes that had been left behind, an abandoned shirt draped over a sofa, scattered pieces of a puzzle. Darla poked at the shirt and noticed it was streaked with dark brown bloodstains. She dropped it back where she found it.