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“I’ve been waiting for you…” An ominous voice sounded from the darkness. Little did Dylan know that this voice would be the one to flip his life upside down.
Dylan awoke in a pitch-black room, devoid of any natural light. One moment ago, he was walking down the street, and now he was there. His memory about what had happened before he blacked out was foggy. Dylan could only remember a cloth being held over his face and the strong smell of chemicals. He didn’t know who had brought him there, let alone why he was there.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Dylan could make out the silhouette of clutter all around him. It smelt humid, and he could even make out a faint whiff of alcohol. It was a good thing he hadn’t moved around too much; he surely would have bumped into something if he had. Dylan moved around carefully. The place was crowded with industrial shelves and rolling trays with various objects stacked on top of each other. He tried opening the door to no avail. It must have been locked from the outside.
At first, he thought the place was abandoned remnants of a lab used to research the spirits. The ones which upon their discovery, sent the world into utter chaos. It was probably ransacked by various religious groups to find dirt on the scientists, like Dylan’s own father, who made the discoveries.
Strangely, shuffling through a crowded block of shelves, there was a small nook that looked like someone had been living there. It had a mattress, a desk, and another set of shelves that was nearly empty. Dylan moved to take a picture of the site. It was then that he realized his camera was no longer around his neck.
He began to panic, as his camera was basically his livelihood. Dylan knew it’d be impossible to replace. Without it, he couldn’t do any photography, which was his biggest hobby and main source of income. Hurriedly, he looked around the place, inspecting every tray and shelf. Dylan didn’t pay any mind to the numerous pieces of medical equipment, specimens in jars, and complicated diagrams that were illegible in the darkness. The only thing that mattered to him was finding his camera.
Dylan had practically torn the place apart by the time he gave up. He slid down against a shelf with an exasperated sigh. A thick notebook topples off the top of the shelf and falls. The sudden thud next to Dylan startles him. He squints at the page, curious about the chart scribbled on it. It looked like a diagram of an average human with certain parts circled and connected to one of six words: Nature, Water, Fire, Sky, Life, and Death. So he had been right, it was a lab used to research the spirits that were discovered close to twenty years ago. The spirits whose very existence sent the world into turmoil. The spirits Dylan’s father had supposedly discovered.
Dylan closed the notebook with a grimace. Losing his camera was bad enough, but now he was being reminded of the person he hated most in the world—his dad. Dylan never learned much about his father as a person, after all, Dylan was only four before his dad was forced into hiding, leaving Dylan to his mother. From then on, the only thing he ever heard about him was his work. Though all he ever heard about the man was either that he was a “scientific genius” or “evil incarnate.” Personally, Dylan leaned toward the latter because he knew something that the public didn’t. The spirits weren’t discovered—they were created.
Quickly, Dylan found himself bored. So, once again, he squeezed through the clutter into the living area. Since his eyes had become more accustomed to the darkness, he was able to spot a small lamp that he hadn’t seen before. Dylan fiddled with it for a second before it turned on and cast an almost blinding light right into his eyes. He recoiled and shielded his eyes. The lamp wasn’t actually all that bright, just a lot brighter than pitch darkness. It cast a warm glow around the nook, though it was the opposite of comforting. Strangely, it was even more eerie. It was almost like being in light surrounded by darkness was worse than complete darkness.
Next to the mattress, there was a slip of paper with a phone number on it. Dylan flipped it over and saw it was a photo of two people. Two people he recognized, granted, he didn’t know them well. The tall, slender woman with dark olive skin and messy hair was named Florence. She was younger in the picture—college age maybe. The only thing he could recall about her was the fact that she was dead, and for good reason. She wore her signature egotistical “I’m better than you” grin in the photo. An identical one to his father in the pictures Dylan had seen of him.
Something didn’t add up, though. What was this photo doing here? Why would some random lab have a picture of two random college students from twenty years ago? Then, Dylan remembered another fact about Florence. She was a scientist—a geneticist in fact. All at once, it clicked. This was Florence’s lab. The lab she probably used to run sick experiments in the name of “saving the world,” as she once claimed. Dylan knew, though, that she was really just like his father—trying to play God.
The opening of a door alerted Dylan. “Who’s there?” he questioned, picking up the lamp to possibly use as self-defense. A voice sounded from the darkness. A very familiar voice.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
That voice made Dylan’s blood run frigid.
“...Dad?”
Some part of him was expecting it to be Florence, back from the dead somehow—but no.
It was him. It was really him…
“How lovely it is to see you again, son.” Dylan’s father emerged from the shadows. He was visibly aged with thick gray streaks in his jet dark hair. On him was a lab coat, with a proper shirt and vest beneath it. Dylan had about a million questions. “What are you doing here? Why am I here? Where’s my camera?” His dad let out a chuckle, to which Dylan was disgusted by his casualness. “Whoa there, slow your roll, kiddo. Your camera’s right here.” He pulled the camera out of the pocket of his lab coat. Dylan was relieved it was intact, but still agitated at who had it. “Give it back.” He stated. His dad shook his head before putting it back in his coat. “Only if you accept my proposition.”
Dylan narrowed his eyes. “Why would I accept anything from you?” His father smiled. “Come on, kid. I'm your dad.” Dylan scoffed, “Barely.” His father merely sighed. “Look, son, I’m sorry I wasn’t in your life, but I’m giving you a chance now. Become my prodigy.” Dylan looked at the pocket of his father’s lab coat, then feigned a soft expression. “Fine…” His father grinned egotistically before opening his arms to a hug. “Atta boy.” Dylan moved forward into the stiff hug—the first time he could remember hugging his father. The first and Last time.
Dylan quickly snatched the camera from his dad’s pocket before swiftly pushing past him. The camera was small—small enough to fit in one hand. He bolted out of the door into the outside world. He didn’t care if his father was following him or not. He just kept running.
He was on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere when he couldn’t run anymore. From out of his pocket, Dylan pulled the picture with the phone number on the back. There was a fifty-fifty chance it was a dead woman or someone who could help him. He would take those odds.