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                “You know, I have one simple request, and that is to have sharks with frickin' laser beams attached to their heads! Now, evidently, my cycloptic colleague informs me that that can't be done. Can you remind me what I pay you people for? Honestly, throw me a bone here!”

                                Dr. Evil, Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery

                “The Ever-After Project was initiated as a social engineering experiment.” The uniformed older middle aged man states as he draws a shiny metal golf club from the red felt-like bag. Slate and I are sitting on the roof of the building with Commander Toren. Our hands are still cuffed, but there aren’t any guards up here with us. We’re sitting at a small beach table under a wide umbrella while the military base commander aims his golf balls out over the fence. Glasses of water are sweating in front of us like freshmen at a high school dance. “Argent Labs is actually a government project, contracted to the Ever-After committee. Sort of extortion for all the funding they had received on such a very ambitious experiment.” He goes on.

                “Yeah, but you said three years.” Slate says, taking all of this a lot more personally than I would have thought. “I’ve only lived here for six months and I moved in when this thing first went on line.”

                “Yeah.” Toren admits casually, which shocks both of us. “We’re still trying to figure that one out.” He says as he waggles his driving iron, his attention focused out on the non-descript whiteness beyond the brick wall and iron gates. “We experimented with Morcean, with him and I both keeping clocks that were identically set. The next time we met, they were off. The thing is, when we tried it a different time, they were off by a different amount. We can’t figure that one out.”

                “Look, we wanted to warn you.” I say. “We warned you. Can we please go now?”

                “I’m afraid not.” Toren says. There’s a loud pop as he sends a white ball flying out, disappearing into the distance. “See, you’ve done what no other person has ever done before. Both of you have. You’ve been to that bio-dome and come back. On top of that, you broke into this bio-dome, something which by all rights should be quite impossible.” He rolls another golf ball up onto his square yard of turf amidst the rock-like surface of the roof. “And then there’s the issue of . . .” He looks back at both of us. “Him.”

                “Every person in Bio-Dome 1 is given a bar code.” Toren explains as I’m lowered back in the steel chair. Being strapped into oddly medical furniture is starting to become quiet normal for my life. “We use that to keep track of possible contaminants. Also so we can very simply keep track of anyone and everyone in this domain.”

                A doctor comes over to me and holds a light over my eye. He stares at the tiny device that’s blinding me with a puzzled look. He looks back at Toren. “Something’s wrong.” The young, but still balding doctor says. He holds the device to the commander.

                Toren accepts the oblong Pringle’s can-looking device and looks at it, surprised. I glance at Slate, but she gives me a stalwart look. I decide to take a risk. “So, do you guys know about the cannibal?” I ask up to Toren.

                The commander looks up from the device and then at me. “What?” He asks.

                “The cannibal.” I say. “Big dude. Kind of fat. Hairy. Looks freaky. Lives in a shack. Eats small children.”

                Toren puts the device down, both him and the doctor staring at me. “What are you talking about?”

                “Your men picked us up. Sometime in the early morning, not far from the base.” I say. Toren nods. “Well, we had just escaped from this weird, big dude the night before. He caught us and was going to eat us.”

                “And how’d you get away from him?” Toren asks, taking the bait of the conversation.

                I bawk, but then recover quickly. Well, I think it was quickly. “I killed him.” I say. “I split his head with my machete.”

                “Huh.” Toren thinks for a moment, then he looks back at Slate. “That’s kind of funny, since your machete didn’t have any blood on it. And her’s only had a little bit.” He looks back at me. “Yet both still had traces of the preserving fluid on the blades.”

                Well damn. That gamble didn’t pay off.

                “What time last night?” He asks, looking over Slate were she sits under armed guard on a metal stool. “Say,” He looking back to me. “Three? Three-thirty?”

                I look at her. “Sounds about right.” She shrugs.

                Toren looks back at me. “See, I find that interesting because there was a power spike in the bio-dome’s systems about that time last night. Not unlike a similar spike that occurred in what was probably a few days ago for you guys in Bio-Dome 4. The same night Morcean reported running into ‘him’.”

                Toren looks at the doctor, then to the guards, motioning towards the door. Without question, the three spare men leave the high school cafeteria-looking room. Toren leans back against a metal bin and smiles a bit. “Why don’t you guys start telling me about this supposed ‘demon’?”

                I can feel myself beginning to sweat. I think we’re screwed.

                “Why don’t you tell us about the cannibal?”

                Toren and I both look over at Slate as she sits comfortably against the wall, staring at Toren from some strange position of power. Toren crosses his arms and looks at her. “I don’t know anything about a cannibal. But I can assure you, I will look into it. But how certain are you he wasn’t just a vampire?”

                “Quite certain.” Slate insists. “I’ve been knee-deep in vampires for months. I know what they smell like and look like. This guy wasn’t a vampire.”

                “Okay.” Toren allows with just a little bit of thought. “But that doesn’t address why the demon showed up? What could he have been after?”

                “What makes you think the demon showed up?” I ask.

Toren just stares at me.

                “He’s following Sam.” Slate says, looking at me. My blood goes cold when she says that.

                “Sam?” Toren says, looking at me. “So you are in fact Sam, the Sam Morcean told me about.” He laughs. “Well this is a small world. And you apparently have survived, nay, been unharmed, at two appearances by this demon. And now she tells me that the demon’s following you. Well, now Sam. What do you have to say about that?”

                I look at Toren, then at Slate, then at Toren. “He’s,” I start. “He’s not following me. Not me.” I look down. What is he doing? “I think it’s just coincidence. I think it’s just chance.”

                “Really?” Toren says with obvious disbelief, chewing on the thought. “So then how come our computers can’t identify you?” I look up at him. “That scanner was a retinal scanner. All entrants into the Ever-after Bio-Domes have had a complete bio worked up on them, down to a thumbprint and retinal scan. We know she’s Nancy Allen, though she goes by the moniker ‘Slate’. But there’s no mention of you. In fact, there are only eighteen Sams in the entire system. And none of them are you.” He sits back. “So, as such, I think you need to start giving me a bit more than ‘coincidence’.

                I look at Slate, almost hoping for some help. She just watches me, in much the same way that Toren is staring down at me. Not quite mad, but thoroughly unwilling to believe anything that comes out of my mouth.

                I look down just below my feet.

                Then something hits me.

                “You said a power surge?” I say, not looking up. “When he showed up?”

                “Yeah.” Toren says. I see his shadow nod.

                “Do you monitor Morcean’s bio-dome closely as well?” I ask.

                “I said we monitored a power surge when he showed up a first time?”

                I look up at him, trying to give him my most sincere look. “He’s shown up more than twice. At least three times, maybe more.” I can tell that Toren’s a bit hooked now. He’s listening. I fight the urge to look over at Slate. “Check the records of Morcean’s bio-dome. See if there was a power surge . . .” I look down, thinking. I look over at Slate. “When did Morecean capture us? When did he drug you and me?”

                “It was yesterday, I think.” Slate says.

                “See if there was another power fluctuation then.” I present to Toren. “It may not be as pronounced but it might be.”

                “Might be?” He says, his arms still crossed. “I fail to see the relevancy.”

                “It may prove if this guy really is following me, or if it is just a coincidence.” I say.

                “How?” Toren says with scientific disbelief.

                “If there is a power surge, then we are connected.” I say, licking chapped lips. “But if there isn’t a power surge, then it is just coincidence.”

                “Why?” The commander says coldly.

                “Because when I was drugged by Morcean, I had a kind of dream of him and he snapped me out of the drugged state and undid my handcuffs.” I look at Slate. “That’s how I was able to save you.”

                “So if there is a power surge, then you two have a connection and that means . . .” Toren says, rolling his hand, prompting more of an explanation.

                “It means I can call him.” I say, looking empathically up at Toren.

                In the back of my mind, I’m praying. He’s got to believe me.

It’s our only hope.

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