Omega The Girl in the Box - By Robert J. Crane Page 0,10

chatter from the two of them was exhausting. They fought over the most inane things, bickering enough that after three hours I had no desire to listen anymore and took a shot of chloridamide just to shut them up.

I stepped out of the elevator onto the third floor, and walked down an open hall. To my left was a series of windows that looked down on the cubed structure of the cafeteria and to my right were doors, spaced every hundred feet or so down the hallway. The paint was fresh white, and the pungent smell of the primer and lacquer was still in the air. I took a deep breath of it, trying to ignore the fact that the chemical was probably not healthy for me. It made the place smell new, fancy, as if it had been built just for us—which it sort of had. I walked past four doors before I came to one marked with a gold plate that saidss “S. Nealon” on it. I heard the scanner next to the door beep as it reacted to the proximity of the key card I had in my pocket, and I reached for the handle and opened the door.

I had lived on the first floor of the dorms for most of the time I had been at the Directorate, but a few months ago, when I left training, Ariadne handed me a key card and pointed me to the third floor. I’d never explored up here, and I found to my surprise that this was where M-Squad lived. It required a key card on your person to even access the floor, and there were only the eight of us up here—the four members of M-Squad, Kat, Scott, Reed and myself. There was a fourth floor, of course, and I knew Ariadne and Old Man Winter both had quarters up there. I’d seen it only once myself, though.

My suite was light, open and spacious—lots of sunlight pouring down from the three paneled windows that opened into the living room, which was two steps down from the entryway where I came in. There was a kitchenette to my left and a subtle dividing half-wall that ran between the kitchenette and the living room. A set of French doors opened onto a balcony just beyond my living room, and the ceilings were high enough that even as a meta, I’d have had to put some effort into jumping to touch them.

The sun had finally come out from behind the clouds and was lighting the room beautifully; it wasn’t long until sundown, however, and I had a few things to accomplish before then. I went to the fridge, a new, beautiful stainless-steel model, and opened it. A few party trays were sitting on the shelves, with twelve-packs of cola. Along with my new quarters, I had access to a pool of assistants who could run my errands for me, paid for by the Directorate. I had sent one of the gophers to a local catering company to pick up some hors d’oeuvres earlier—finger sandwiches, miniature pastries, and a few other things for what I had planned for this evening. I pulled the trays out and set them on the table in the dining area.

I opened one of the cartons of cocktail wieners, smelled the rich, sweet barbecue and smiled. I pulled the toothpicks out of the cabinet and speared one through the middle, taking a bite. The fat had settled into the sauce, and it was delicious, a sweet tangy flavor almost melting on my tongue. I poured them into a porcelain bowl and stuck them into the microwave per the directions taped to the top of the dish. While they were warming, I pulled an ice bucket from below the sink and filled it from the freezer. When I was done, I grabbed the soft drinks and started burying them in the ice.

I heard a knock at the door and froze, my eyes turning toward the clock on the microwave. Fifteen minutes early; I smiled and walked to the door.

When I opened it, Zack was standing outside, a bottle of wine in his hands. I looked at it and gave him a smile. “It’s illegal for anyone under the age of twenty-one to partake in that, you know.”

“I’m here to make sure you kids don’t get out of control,” he said. “This is for later, for the two of us.” He glanced at the label. “Maybe not tonight, but sometime