The Nightmare (The Mist #2) - Regine Abel Page 0,1
a small underground transport system. A shuttle, reminiscent of the car of a subway train, stretched the entire length of the short platform. However, its interior couldn’t have been more different. All the seats faced each other and were equipped with seatbelts that crossed over the chest. Just like the hall and corridor I’d come in through, the shuttle was entirely white, except for the dark-grey floor and leather cushion of the seats. The dozen or so passengers onboard were scattered in the space, each one having left at least an empty seat between them and their closest neighbor. I hesitated for a second before heading towards one of the only two males in the shuttle.
He looked friendly with a handsome, boyish look to him, even though he had to be in his late twenties or early thirties like me. Fit, a little on the androgynous side, his light-brown eyes sparkled with intelligence and undisguised curiosity. We exchanged a timid smile as I placed my bag in the overhead compartment before sitting one spot over from him. I buckled my seatbelt and began the waiting game.
Thankfully, the wait turned out not to be all that long with only a handful more candidates joining us onboard. The doors closed, but seconds ticked by as we remained stationary.
“Please, fasten your seatbelts so that we may depart,” said a soft and polished female voice over the intercom, startling me.
All eyes zeroed in on a petite, dark-haired, gothic-looking woman in her mid-twenties as she scrambled to rectify her omission. She appeared so mortified as she buckled up, I almost felt sorry for her. As soon as she did, a green light appeared above the four doors of the shuttle. Seconds later, it began to move, gaining speed at a mind-boggling rate. In a blink, the need for the seat belt became obvious. We were moving so fast, it felt like the beginning of the centrifuge effect one experienced on a roller-coaster.
Still, after about five minutes of this underground high-speed ride, the shuttle came to a smooth stop. Nothing happened for a few moments while everyone exchanged wondering glances. Then the shuttle shook slightly with a loud, clinking sound, as if something had grappled the car from above. The same blossoming panic I felt was reflected on everyone else’s face.
“Docking complete. Initiating takeoff,” said that same feminine voice over the intercom just as everyone seemed on the verge of freaking out.
“That's not creepy or unnerving at all,” said the man sitting next to me.
I snorted and gave him a sideways glance. “Agreed,” I said with a nervous smile.
“The name is Riley,” he said, smiling back.
“Naima,” I replied.
“Pleasure to meet you. Might as well make friends since we’re headed into the Twilight Zone,” he added with a mischievous glimmer in his light-brown eyes.
I chuckled, agreeing with that statement as well. “I mean, I understand they don't want us to know where the selection will be taking place, but this feels like a bit of an overkill.”
Riley shrugged. “This stuff doesn't impress me anymore. I'm an engineer with NASA, but I've been studying the rifts in the Veil for a while now with other governmental agencies. This type of excessive security is becoming commonplace for me. Although, it’s never been this crazy for a mere job interview.”
“Wow,” I said. “A bona fide rocket scientist!”
He snorted and shrugged in that way of meaning ‘what can you do?’
“I'm nothing that fancy,” I continued. “I’m a psychologist. I work mostly with psychopaths and sociopaths, as well as their victims with PTSD.”
“Wow!” Riley said, echoing my own reaction to his profession. “It must be crazy trying to get into the mind of these types of patients, no pun intended. However, it now makes me wonder what makes you want to work for the Men in Black? That seems like quite a stretch.”
“I mostly work with convicted criminals of Mist homicides and their surviving victims,” I answered, knowing I would likely face the same question once the interview process began. “A better understanding of what lurks in the Mist will not only help me in my career, but frankly, it will also help me face my own demons.”
And God knew I had plenty of those. As a surviving victim myself, I still had the occasional nightmare about the incident.
“I'm really dying to know what this interview entails,” I mused out loud. “Why did it have to take place during the Mist? And where are they taking us? Even the requirements to sign