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John Heming wondered what was wrong with the others, especially the man named Jason who helped him in the shower. He was calm, too calm. Did he know what happened and was pretending that he didn’t?

Why didn’t they feel frantic? John did. He felt confined and wanted nothing more than to get out, to find his family and get home to them. An urgency to leave, run, and escape, as if he had been a prisoner.

But a part of him knew he wasn’t a prisoner. If he was, where were the guards? There were no cameras in the room that he could see. What was holding him there? Once dressed he fled from the room and looked down the hall. His room was dead center.

It was the longest hallway he had ever seen. Eight feet wide, nearly a hundred feet long if not more. A white hall with overhead lights and at each end of the hall was a door.

The one door had no handle, it was flush and the square above it didn’t even have the word exit on it. The other wasn’t marked either but it had a silver push bar and John ran there.

He shoved on the door and it didn’t budge. He banged and pushed filled with insanity to leave.

“Twelve,” Jason called out. “Stop.”

“I need to get out of here.” John turned from the door. Staring at him were Jason, the woman, and a new guy. “What’s wrong with you people? Don’t you want to leave? You seem content to be here. Can’t you tell they did something to us?”

Jason stepped forward. “We don’t remember anything. I barely remember my life, it’s like a dream. I’m not…” He closed his eyes tightly as if frustrated. “I’m not feeling like I know anything.”

“Well I do,” John said. “I do. My name is John. John Heming. Not Number Twelve. I am forty-six years old, from Chicago Illinois. I am a writer. I have four sons, a wife … who… my God.” He turned toward the door. “Was in the middle filing for divorce when I left. I need …” he pounded. “To get out.”

The woman yelled. “Stop. Please. Pounding on it isn’t getting us out.”

“There’s more here.” John waved his hand around. “More to this place than just this hall. What is behind all these doors? More people? Why are we the only ones awake? You people may be missing memories, but I feel we are missing something. Something we need to do. I feel it.”

“John,” The new guy walked to him. “My name is Malcolm. I’m just as confused as everyone else. If we are gonna get out or get beyond that door, we need to figure out how instead of just banging on it.”

John nodded. “You’re right.”

Jason snapped his finger. “Nora, you were looking at the boxes in storage. Did you see anything that wasn’t food? Like tools?”

“I didn’t notice, but then again, I didn’t really look,” Nora said. “Twelve … I mean … John woke up.”

“Then we look,” Jason said. “Maybe there is something there we can pry it open with. John? Does that work? You and I will look. Malcolm and Nora can keep watch in the hall, and check their rooms for anything.”

Reluctantly, John stepped from the door. “Fine. Let’s look. Because there are two doors that don’t open. Someone wants us in here and that means …” John walked toward Jason. “We in this hall are not the only ones in this building.”

Jason took John to the storage room and then after saying he’d return, he went back to his room. Room Nine.

He returned there to change but didn’t look. Now he had to. The name above the encasement chamber.

Jason looked.

Rudolph.

As soon as he looked at it the name registered in his mind. Jason Rudolph.

He repeated it several times until it felt like a sledgehammer nailed him. He had some sort of physical reaction. His body swayed and suddenly, he had a full-fledged memory.

At first it didn’t make sense. He was standing before tens of thousands of people, holding a microphone and speaking.

Jason Rudolph.

Was he a singer?

No.

His eyes widened.

He had a wife. Melissa. He remembered her, he saw her in his mind, her red hair. Her beautiful face. Instantly he felt love for her. It consumed him, overwhelmed him. How could he forget her? And his child. A daughter. A baby. A new baby.

It was all coming back to him and quickly too. Suddenly Jason felt excited, enthused and then he felt like John. Frantic to get out, to get home. He didn’t remember why he was there or even how he got there, but he knew he was supposed to be elsewhere, with his family and home.

Surely, a door in his mind opened. Soon, Jason believed, he’d remember it all. With motivation he ran back to storage.

He could barely breathe, speak, he was excited and scared all at the same time.

“John,” He called out as he ran in.

“I think I have something here,” John said. “All of these boxes are survivor materials. Food, water, rations, medical supplies. This box is heavy, bet me it has tools. It’s not marked. Although for the life of me I can’t figure out why they’d give us tools if they were keeping us prisoner.”

“I’m a preacher.”

John paused in opening the box. “I’m sorry, what?”

Jason spoke rapidly and with enthusiasm. “I went back to my room. I looked at the gel box I came from. My name. When I saw it I started to remember. I am a preacher. Or a pastor. Not sure. I have a family. I know that. I also know what you meant now. We need to get out of here.”

“Well, thank God.” John cleared his throat. “No pun intended to you being a preacher or pastor. Funny, one would think it would be embedded in your soul...” He pulled the tape seal from the box. “This is really heavy it’s …” He opened the flaps. “Guns.”

“Guns, as in like a weapon?”

John only glanced at him. “Um yeah, Preacher, guns. Bang.”

“Why would we need guns?”

John closed the flap slowly. “I read a book once. They locked eight people in this compound to see who would survive. A game of sorts.”

“You don’t think this is the case, do you?”

John shook his head. “I don’t know. The writer in me is really thinking outside …” He glanced down. “The box. But these weapons. Why do we need them in here?”

“You’re a writer?” Jason asked.

“Yeah,” He nodded. “That’s how I paid the bills.” He pushed the box aside and looked around. “So many boxes here. How long did they expect us to stay?”

“There are forty-eight rooms. I have an empty backpack in my room.  Maybe we’re in the wilderness somewhere and all this is to fill our backpacks.”

Again, John shook his head as he searched. “No, we’re in New York. Or at least that’s the last place I was when I saw Nora.”

“But how …”

“Oh. Wait. Stop.” John moved a box. “Bingo.” He pointed to the fire emergency sign on the wall, and the ax in the glass encasement.”

“We can use that.”

“And it tells me a lot,” John said and walked back to the gun box. He grabbed a pistol. “Guns, weapons. We aren’t prisoners. We were put in here for a reason. But what?”

“If this was your book, John, why would we be here? I mean, you’re a writer. How would you write this?”

“First thing that comes to mind is an experiment of sorts. The fluid caused some memory loss. But you remembering tells me it is short term, so they don’t really want us to forget. Let me think about this.” Shielding his eyes, John turned from the case and then using the handle of the pistol, after a short snapping hit, he broke the glass on the case.

After handing Jason the pistol, John retrieved the ax.

Clenched in his grip, John turned. “Let’s go break that door.”

“Which one.”

“Not the one with the broken Exit sign, that’s for sure.”

The two men had taken a few steps across the room, when Nora came barreling in.

“Guys, we need help. Number One just woke up and is choking.” She flew back out.

John set down the ax and raced out with Jason.

Room Number One was only a few doors down and when they arrived, Malcolm had performed a Heimlich maneuver hold on Number One.

All Jason could see was a dangling arm, lifeless. Malcolm’s back was to him, his feet slipping on the gel like substance all over the floor. Obviously, like with Jason, Number One’s encasement malfunctioned.

“Come on.” Malcolm urged. His back heaved as he clenched. He was bigger than the man he tried to help. “He may need CPR. Unless he starts breathing.”

“What if you lay him down?” John suggested. “Do it that way.”

“Good idea,” When Malcolm turned his body, the object flew from the man’s mouth and landed on the floor.

It merged with the other fluid there.

The man silently gasped. His eyes widened and hand reached out. He released noises that were vain attempts at talking.

“Shower. He needs to go into the shower,” Nora said and placed her face first to the man. “You need to shower to get this guck off. I know you can’t talk. Nod if you understand me.”

He did.

“I got him,” Malcolm said, helping him.

“Careful, don’t fall,” Nora said as she led the way.

Jason thought,
About this point the video comes on
and he turned to see it. He didn’t want to miss the message. Maybe it would have more to it.

He looked. There was no monitor.

No television.

Jason, puzzled looked at John. “Why doesn’t he have a monitor?”

“More than likely, he knows what’s going on. This is a big piece of the puzzle and tells us who is behind this all. He doesn’t need a video message.”

“Why would you say that?” Jason asked.

“You didn’t look at him. He’s Number One, all right,” John said. “That’s the president.”

John worked the ax against the corner of the door with as much determination as frustration. “This has to open. It has to.” He banged against the silver bar.

“What do you suppose the other door is?” Jason asked.

“Jason,” John exhaled. “I’m not an expert. I know as much about all this as you do.”

“I’m just having you guess.”

“I don’t know. I’d say exit, but they blocked out the word exit. This we can safely guess is an exit. It’s not locked.” John pushed the bar again. “I think something is against it. But in case it is just jammed.” John wedged the ax in the frame. “I’ll get through this son of a bitch.”

“You’re different, John.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean. When I woke up. When Nora woke up. We were confused, near shells of human beings. You have it together. You know who you are, where you came from, what you were doing. We’re still piecing it together. A part of me thinks this door and the other will open when the forty three other people wake up.”

John stopped and stood upright. “That actually makes sense.”

“All this is preparatory. The supplies, the clothing, I just wish I knew when the others were waking.”

“It’s preparatory, but there’s more. It’s behind this door.”

“I wish President Thomas knew.”

John laughed.

“What?” Jason asked. “What’s so funny?”

“He knows. Don’t let him kid you.”

“He says he doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t even know he’s the president.”

John shook his head. “He knows. That’s the preacher in you believing the best. No. Where is he? In his room, while the rest of us are out here trying to figure this place out, trying to figure out what is going on. He’s staying away because he knows.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell us?”

“You are full of questions. And son of a bitch, this thing won’t budge.” On his final word, John slammed the ax into the door. When he did two things occurred.

The door opened.

Turning around to smile at Jason, John saw it.

Every door of every room slid open. Lights from the rooms flowed into the hall.

“I did not cause that, did I?” John asked.

“No, I think it was a coincidence. It’s time.” Jason glanced at John. “They’re all waking up.”

On that, John placed down the ax between the door and the frame. That door was finally open and it wasn’t the only one.

Good morning. By now you have awakened. Please, for your health, as quickly as possible, relieve your bladder and wash any remaining residue from your skin and hair. You will find we have provided you with clothing. At this point, you are wondering what is going on, all those questions will be answered when you have had the time to adjust. You have emerged from what is called a Genesis Unit. This experience hinders long-term memory, may cause cognizant problems, and may delay comprehension. Expect a full return to normalcy in forty-eight hours at which time, another message will play.

That was it.

The full message by the man in the lab coat.

Forty-three monitors played it all at the same time, but only the monitor in Room Three played the entire message.

Unfortunately, the occupant of that room didn’t make it. His Genesis Unit never drained and he was nothing more than a gray being, mummified in a thick bluish fluid.

In fact, most of the remaining forty-three people never woke up.

Something went wrong.

Two women and one man were all that emerged.

Some of the units drained, the occupants were still attached, they never woke, and the respirator was still perched in their lips. Malcolm tried with diligence to revive Number Seven. Her color was good, she wasn’t gray, but she didn’t return.

It was a quiet synchronized sequence of events. The hum of the lights sounded off and then a hiss as every door unlocked at the same time.

“Split up,” Jason instructed. “Someone may need help.”

Nora was nearest to Room One, she knocked on the closed door, and then without waiting for an invitation, she entered. “President Thomas, the others are waking. We may need some help.”

He was seated in a chair by the foot of his bed, hands folded, he merely glanced up and then back down.

“Did you hear me?”

He didn’t reply.

Giving up, Nora left the room.

“Something is wrong,” Malcolm said. “They aren’t moving.”

“This one is,” John yelled from down the hall. “I’m going in.”

Nora watched then as Malcolm frantically slid open the door to Room Six, it hadn’t opened. “Oh my God.”

She hurried in after.

The encasement was void of any fluid. A man was still attached. He didn’t move. His feet darkened from settled blood right before their eyes.

Malcolm reached to him. “He’s ice cold. What the hell.” And then Malcolm ran back out of the room.

Nora supposed he was seeing who else needed help.

She went into Five and the unit was dead. No lights, no blinking. No emptying of the fluid. The woman looked peaceful. Her hair flowed back and formed in the gel.

It was disheartening and sad. She looked the name Farris and mentally conveyed an “I’m sorry,” to her.

Figuring, she too needed to see who needed help, Nora left the room. She paused passing Room Seven.

Malcolm was detaching the woman.

“Malcolm?” Nora questioned.

“She’s still warm. She’s not breathing, but she’s still warm.”

Nora stayed only a moment, she realized Malcolm was going to try to revive her. The lifesaving technique wasn’t even a reaction to Nora. She felt deep inside her she didn’t have a clue on what to do.

In the situation with Number Eleven, Nora knew there was nothing anyone could do. It was, out of all of them, the most horrific

The name on the Genesis unit read Coyne. The woman was younger, possibly in her thirties. Her hair pulled back, the respirator had detached from her and was only a few inches from her mouth. Her skin wasn’t mummified, shriveled or gray, she was white, even her hair.

The fluid did not drain. To Nora, that was a good thing. The Genesis unit was a see through coffin and the woman perfectly preserved. But the young woman’s remains were completely different than anyone else’s.

The blue gel like fluid at the base of the unit had a swirling purple color. More than likely from settling blood. From between her slightly parted legs emerged an umbilical cord that floated upwards to the full term infant, curled in a fetal position infused in the gel right above her left thigh.

Throughout the fluid in the Genesis were speckles of red and white.

Seeing Miss Coyne caused an emotional and physical reaction in Nora. A wave of sadness blasted her, and physically she dropped to the floor.

Nora wanted to scream. It was a mix of anger and anguish that swept over her. Stomach knotting and tensing, it took Nora all that she had not to vomit. Instead she cried. Unable to move, unable to go on. Nora stared at the poor young woman, and in an added state of confusion, she sobbed.