Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Mercer walks over to a bar cart on the far end of the room and starts pouring himself a drink. “Did you know I hardly ever drank until you came onto the project?”
He’s got his back to me when he says this. And I’m confused. My timelines are all messed up. Which fresh start and new beginning is he referring to?
He turns with a drink in his hand. Only one drink, and he doesn’t offer it to me. He puts it up to his lips and sips, then lets out a long breath. “Shall we get on with it then?”
Shall we get on with what? Threatening Mercer wasn’t in the plan. It was supposed to be Patricia up here. I was going to tell her that I was pregnant and can’t take the drug anymore. Of course, she would object. She might even suggest that I ‘take care of it’ instead of continuing the pregnancy. But I had an answer for that. Mercer was the answer. He is someone she values. And his child would be valued too.
At least, that was Olsen’s assumption.
But now I’m second-guessing everything. All of it. Because Patricia isn’t here, and Mercer is, and I no longer feel like having this conversation.
“Nova?”
“What?”
“Is there something you want to tell me?”
“No.”
“No?” He laughs. “But you’re making your big escape tonight, right? Olsen is waiting for you. Let me guess, at my marina?”
How does he know that?
“How do I know that?” He scoffs. “Nova. I’m in charge here. I control all of it. Up to and including Olsen’s great escape.”
Oh, shit. “You’re saying—”
“He’s on the drug, Nova. Everyone on the island is on the drug.”
‘No. He’s not.”
“He is. Everyone is. I’m running three hundred and one trials right at this moment and I’ve approved every single scenario. There are cameras and microphones everywhere. In your cottage, in your office, in the woods. Here.” He points to the floor.
Before I can stop myself, I look up, searching for them. I don’t find anything that looks like a camera, but then again, they would be hidden. Wouldn’t they?
Or maybe he’s lying.
“I’m not lying, Nova.” He extends his hand in my direction. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”
“No.” I feel like this is the only word I’m capable of saying right now. The only thing with conviction, anyway. “I’m not going with you. I’m—”
“Leaving?” He finishes my sentence. And I just stare at him, unable to move, or think, or anything. “Of course you’re leaving.”
“What?”
“I know you’re leaving. Jesus. Pay attention, OK? I know you’re coming out of it, and your crash hasn’t happened yet—might not happen for months. Years, maybe. So you’re disoriented. But that’s why I’m here.” His voice is soothing now. “I’m trying to bring you up to speed so you can get on that helicopter and be on your way.”
“On my way where?”
“Wherever it is you want to go. Look.” He walks over to a large table where there is a dark-green glossy folder sitting in the center. “This is all your paperwork. Everything is in order. You’ve done your part and we’ve done ours. And now it’s time to say goodbye.”
Is he serious?
Is this a trap?
Am I not a prisoner?
Mercer scoffs out a laugh. “For fuck’s sake, Nova. We’re scientists. There is no secret society here. It was a fantasy. One you partially wrote. I added to it, of course. I needed you to do certain things in this last scenario.”
“Like submit?” I growl these words out.
“Exactly.”
“Why? Why did you make me do all that? Locke? Olsen? The two of them. You and Locke—what the actual fuck, Mercer!”
“Oh, that was all you.”
“Fuck you, it was me!”
He extends his hand again, once more beckoning me to take it. And I have a flash of memory. Locke doing this on the edge of the woods.
But that’s it. That’s all I get. It doesn’t bring any new information.
“Come with me. I’ll explain. I can do better than explain, actually. I can show you. We recorded all the meetings we had as we developed this final trial for you. And you gave your input on every single scenario.”
I don’t want to take his hand. I don’t want to see his videos. I know he’s telling the truth. I can’t remember it, but I can feel it.
I agreed to this.
All of it.
And I know what’s in that glossy folder.
My compensation.
Am I even pregnant?
I let out a long sigh and reach out to find the arm of a couch. Then I am sinking into the cushions.
Mercer walks over to me, bends down in front of me, takes both my hands. “It’s OK. You’re done. You did everything we needed. You did everything right. And I know you’re disoriented right now, but it’ll fade. And you never have to take the drug again.” He sends me a sly, sideways look. “Unless you want to, that is.”