Excerpts Taken From Marcus P. Kellum's Personal Journal.
Avi and I have been separated. My belongings have only just been returned to me. I have been placed in a room that has a door that locks from the outside. Reynolds has told me that it is for my own safety as there are things within this compound that I might not be cleared to see. I am not sure I believe him, but as it stands now, I really don’t have a choice in the matter.
Once the elevator had reached the construction trailer, Avi was gently placed in the car and allowed to go down to the compound first. Owing to her physical state, she did not grumble as much as she normally would have when the three Facility thugs put her in the car and then traveled below with her. Our physical state. Things have been speeding along at such a rate; the hotel, the thing on my leg, the thing in the church, Avi’s wound, and the thing behind the bush…I am actually glad to be incarcerated here. It is giving me a chance to calm down and think about what has happened.
Once Avi had left the room, Reynolds gave me a curious look. He crushed out his cigarette and straightened his tie.
“Kellum,” he said around a leer. “I didn’t think you had it in you!”
The cad! He mistook my concern for Avi and my professional camaraderie with her as evidence that we were sleeping together. I did not even dignify his comment with a reply. I let my silence show him my distaste for his dishonorable comments. Satisfied with himself, Reynolds gave a soft chuckle.
“Turkey about killed you.” He stated flatly.
I gave a brief nod. There was no point in trying to avoid his knowledge or attempt to keep up the charade any longer. “If you know so much about it, why didn’t the Facility lend a hand?”
“Oh, we were there,” Reynolds said. “Tolliver and I were both watching you the moment you stepped off the plane in Ankara.”
“Watching, but no help,” I said, incensed by the fact that these people had been dogging my steps for years.
“You did fine Kellum…if you screwed the pooch; we’d go in and clean up for you. The fact that you made it out of the country alive was what got you your grant with the Facility. Be happy!”
Reynolds has really begun to annoy me. His self-satisfied visage and his surety only highlighted the worst in him and the worst in what I was learning about the Facility. These men were not scholars or scientists; they were not dedicated to obtaining the answers to secrets. These men were thugs and swindlers, only feigning interest to further the ends of some bureaucrat’s bloodlust and assuage paranoia. I resolved to escape this place if I could and to take Avi with me. I would no longer work for these pretenders or their governmental bosses. Like I had in the past, I would strike out on my own and take care of business as I saw fit. I would just have to be more careful.
There was an uncomfortably long lapse in our conversation. Reynolds stared at me as if he were daring me to “try something.” I would not indulge him. The soft ping of the elevator rang out in the dingy office and the door smoothly slid open.
The silence continued as we rode down. The elevator was nothing like the grubby and dusty office. It was brand new and its metal shone as if it were polished on a schedule. We travelled downwards at an alarming rate, my stomach and innards shifted as we sped towards our destination. After quite a bit of time, the elevator slowed and stopped. The soft ping came again and the doors opened.
In front of the open doors, I saw a very long hallway. It was white and clinical in appetence. The floor looked like it had been recently waxed. Everything was bright enough that after the dirty office both Reynolds and I had to squint our eyes. Reynolds stepped out of the elevator with an air of authority and beckoned me to follow. Grasping my sheaf of notes, I stepped into the hallway and as the door of the elevator shut, I felt a sense of ensnarement, as if the cool and unemotional compound were attempting to lure me with false promise. I also felt that I would not be allowed out for a very long time.
