The Alphas Wonder Land Phoenix Mountain Book 9
Chapter 4

“This thing is not telling me anything!” I slam the piece down on the lab table.

“Tests are failing?” Gerome asks.

“I’ve ran everything I could think of. All they tell me is that it’s not only weird, but super weird. There’s its composition that shouldn’t exist. The carbon dating that I ran five times. It has a weird energy coming from it that doesn’t match any frequency I’ve ever seen. The ends seem like it was blasted apart. Like a man made explosion. In a time when explosives weren’t even a thought. Either this thing is not from here or we have a vastly messed up timeline.” I hold my head in my hands as I stare at the piece.

“Maybe it’s just garbage. Ever think of that?” Gerome suggests.

I shake my head. “No. This is something. Something big. I just don’t know what.” I pick it up and drop it again.

I pick it up and place it in the box. “I also think it’s what the break in was for. Whoever wanted it, wanted it bad enough to break into a federally protected building. That takes guts.” I lock the box.

“Or it was a bunch of idiots on a suicide mission.” He smirks.

“That was professional.” I point to him. “They knew what they were doing.”

“Well, hopefully they won’t try again. We don’t need that kind of security breach. Donors don’t like that.” He stands up from his stool. “Ok. I’m out. Don’t stay too late.”

I wave bye and pull out my tests results. I’ve read them several times, but I guess I feel like I’m missing something.

I was into reading when a soft laugh, a man’s laugh, came from the hall. I stopped and listened. After a bit, I went back to reading.

I turned a page and the laugh came again, making me yelp a bit and turn to the hall.

I took off my glasses and walked to the hall. I stepped out the door. The lab across from me was dark. I glanced at my reflection and looked away.

“Gerome? Is that you?” I looked down the other way. “Henry?” I call out.

Getting no answer, I went back in. I was about to sit on my stool when another laugh, a little louder this time, came from the hall. My own yelp was a little louder.

I swallowed and grabbed my purse.

I quickly walked to the ladies room.

After freshening up, I wash my hands. I replace my pills and take two. I scoop water into my mouth.

Just as I shut the water off, the laugh was in front of me. My mouth went small and I slowly raised my head to my reflection staring back at me.

I swallow again. “You’re not real.” I mumble.

I grab my purse and back up. The laugh happens again.

“You’re not real.” I insist a little louder.

“Damica.” The mirror sings.

I shake my head slowly as my body trembles. “You’re not real!”

“Where’s my bunny, Damica. I want to play.” The voice is broken and distorted as it comes through the glass.

A tear falls out my eye. “You’re not real!!” I run out of the bathroom and down the hall. My reflections chase after me in the glass of the dark labs. The laughter and the whispers chase me.

“Grab her.” They whisper. “Grab her now.”

I hit the elevator door and press the button quick. The whispers and laughter circle me.

“Come on.” I grit and choke as more tears fall.

“Damica.” The voice sings again.

“GO AWAY!!” I scream. I run for the stairwell and slam through the door. I climb the stairs to the main floor lobby.

I burst through the door in a fear stricken panic. Running across the front lobby, I hear Henry call out to me and ask if I’m alright. I don’t even look.

Just run, Damica. Just run.

My mind takes me to the broken world. My five year old feet running for her life. Running down a red, cobblestone path through the trees of the wood. The crazy world is a blur in my eyes. My breath is panicked like it is now.

The wolves. The wolves in the woods. Running fast. I have to run faster.

My dull nightgown is ripped when the claws of the monsters tried to grab me.

I stop look all around. Nothing is familiar. Everything is broken.

I see the glowing eyes surround me. My tiny eyes cry for my mother as I’m knocked down and dragged back with them, kicking and screaming.

I run back to my car. “It’s not real. Its not real. It’s not real.” My hands shake as unlock my door.

I get in and start to drive. I cover my rear view.

I’m shaking with fear and dread that they found me. They said they would and they found me.

I shake my head. “It’s not real. It’s not real.” I repeat the whole way home.

When I enter my building, the laughter follows, though at this point, I don’t know if it’s them or my mind.

I run to the stairs and run up the ten flights of stairs to my apartment.

I rush in and lock all four lock. I drop my purse and head to my bathroom.

I pick a bottle from the tens of bottles, dump four tablets in my hand and swallow them with a handful of water.

I curl myself in a ball next to the tub and sob hard.

“It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.” I choke between cries.

Once my meds kick in, I feel exhausted. Every muscle burns and my lungs hurt from crying. I crawl into bed with my white rabbit and pass out in a medicated stupor.

****

I woke up around 9:30 the next night. After explaining to Gerome that I was exhausted, I headed downtown to the Poison Toadstool. A hookah bar. When I’m hopped on meds, but still need to take the edge off, I come here. The perks of being a head case.

I walk in and it’s filled with a cloud of smoke. I walk up to the counter. The smoke cloud parts like water.

“Hey, Dami.” A young guy with black dreads, greets me from behind the counter. He’s our resident naturopath.

“Hi, Ace. What’s new?” I smile.

He smiles back. “You’re going to love it. Best high ever.” He reaches down and slams a baggie on the counter. I call it the Mad Hatter.” He grins. He picks up a joint from the ashtray off to the side and takes a puff. “15.” He squeaks as he holds the smoke in. He blows it out when I hand him the cash.

I pick up the packet. “Thanks.”

I turn and scan the floor. I pick a table.

They supply you everything here. Hookahs, pipes, papers. Whatever you need for the price of a baggie. They understand a lot of us are in medical and mental anguish. So they feel like they don’t want to take advantage. At least, that’s what Ace tells me.

I start to roll my joint when I’m joined by an old friend.

I smile. “Hi Reggie.”

He smiles. His dark eyes hidden by his dark glasses. He unbuttons his suit jacket and sits with almost a regal fashion.

“Damica.” He grins. His dark tanned skin make his white smile look big and lights up his face. “How are you?” His tone sounds like a very well educated man. I don’t know if he is. I’ve known him for years, yet his background is a complete mysterious to me. He always seems to be around when I need him. Even though conversations with Reggie are a little…strange.

I lick my paper and finish rolling. He runs his hand over his short dark purple hair.

I shrug. “Could be better.” I put the joint to my lips and Reggie leans over with a lighter. He lights the lighter and I take puffs. I hold the last one in my lungs. I lean back in the seat and blow out the smoke. Letting the high take me.

“What’s wrong, child?” He says as he light the hookah on the table in front of him.

“They’re back.” I tap my temple and take another puff.

He leans over. “I figured that. You’re here with me.” He laughs. “Now, the question is…why have they come back?”

I shrug. “Damned if I know.”

“While the logical response is your trauma is trying to resurface. The nonsense response is you’ve finally cracked.” He smiles and puffs on his pipe.

“I feel like I’ve cracked. Why now, Reggie? What do they want me to do?” I lean on the table.

“Sing?” He arches a brow.

“What?” I look at him completely confused.

He laughs again. “I don’t know, Damica. I don’t know. If the voices in your head are telling you things, you should probably not seek advice from me.”

“They don’t tell me things. They act let they want me for some reason.” I mumble.

“OK. I have a question for you.” He leans back.

“Ok. Shoot.” I eye him.

He looks me in the eye. “I can bring tears to your eyes; resurrect the dead, make you smile, and reverse time. I form in an instant but last a lifetime. What am I?” He raises his chin and looks down his nose at me like he’s a teacher.

I look down. I bite my cheek as I run through the words. This is Reggie. Everything can be solved by nonsensical riddles. “…resurrect the dead…form in an instant…”

I lift my head and look at him. “A memory.”

He smiles and leans forward. “Exactly.” He takes another huff.

I puff my joint. “So you think the voices are just a memory?”

He shrugs. “The mind is a crazy world of rainbows and snowstorms. Sometimes when the past knocks, the mind tries to form it in a way it understands. You, my little girl, are stuck. Stuck in a world where the crazy is knocking. Your brain can’t put it together in a way you understand, so it puts it together in a way that you don’t.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” I look at him.

He waves his hand and the smoke swirls around him. “What is sense, Damica? It’s not tangible. We can’t touch it. What’s nonsense to you, makes perfect sense to me. It’s all how you perceive things to be. How your mind interprets them. How you deal with the insanity the world drops at your door. That’s your sense.”

I rub my temple. “My brain hurts.”

He laughs a booming laugh. “Damica, soon you’ll grow up and things will be clear. Right now, you’re just discovering who you are. I’m afraid your curiosity will get the better of you. Like I told you before. Don’t go looking for reflections if your not going to like what you see.”

“Yeah ok.” I mumble.

He pushes his hookah to me. “Here. Try this. It has one hell of a kick. It almost makes me feel…taller.” He grins a big, bright white toothy smile and sits tall. Puffing out his chest.

I giggle and puff on the pipe.

****

After, I cab it home. I think about what Reggie said or rather didn’t say.

Basically, something has triggered the memories of my kidnapping. They all told me that my experience was just a delusion. A fantasy I made up to hide the fact that the real kidnappers scared me.

After 10 years of it being drilled into my brain, I accepted defeat. Told them what they wanted to hear. I believed it myself for the longest time.

Then the hairs on my neck stood up. The eyes in my reflections weren’t mine. My psychosis came back and here I am today. Spending my nights getting high with a man in blue suit and black turtle neck. Kicking back while he hurts my brain with riddles.

Why is my life like this?